


Blood Song

by LadySun777 (LadySunflower39)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Jon Snow goes to Essos, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Light Angst, No Ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 47,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySunflower39/pseuds/LadySun777
Summary: AU: Spurred on by an unfortunate event Ned gives Jon the truth about his mother.





	1. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George RR Martin and HBO.

It should have been an adventurous ride in the Wolfswood, but in all their youthful eagerness they lost their way in the thicket of the woods. They tried to find their way back, but soon Jon realized that they were completely lost.

"I think this tree is familiar," his brother Robb remarked. His face was pale and hidden under the scarf wrapped around his neck.

Jon stopped his horse and eyed the tree. It was an ancient Ironwood tree like thousands of others. The tree looked more crooked than others, but Robb always had a sharper eye than Jon.  _Maybe the cold is dulling my senses._

"I am not sure," Jon replied through gritted teeth hiding his face under his own scarf. The cold was slowly seeping into every pore of his body and he felt the numbness in his limps. This alarmed him. He knew very well what frostbite could do.

He looked around. There was another ironwood tree, a few oak trees and an old evergreen. None of them looked familiar to him. It seemed the woods turned into an inescapable maze.

Rubbing his shoulders he turned back to Robb who was now shivering from head to toe. Soon the night will be upon them and then it will grow only colder.

They were lost, hopelessly lost. Their only chance was to find a proper shelter.

"Robb," he addressed his brother."We need to find shelter. Tomorrow we will ride back or maybe father will send men to find us."

Robb´s blue eyes widened in shock and fear. Jon was also afraid, but it was foremost Lady Stark´s reaction that worried him. Her anger scared him more than the cold night lying ahead of them.

"My lady mother…!" Robb protested."She will have both our heads if we don´t make it back in time."

Jon dropped his head in acknowledgment of his words."Aye, your lady mother will be displeased, but I think she will be happier to have you back alive."

Robb seemed unhappy with his answer, but didn´t protest they gathered twigs and leaves to build a shelter next to a fallen oak tree. It was night when they were finally finished with their work. As

they had nothing to make fire they huddled together to warm each other.

Soon it started to snow. It was only light snowing, but it added to Jon´s uneasiness. Daring to sleep would be far too dangerous.

"Robb," he called out to his brother."Have you ever seen such a bright sky?" he asked hoping it will distract him from the constant shivering.

Robb´s eyes darted to the sky where thousands of stars glittered. It looked like diamonds cast over an inky cloak.

"I think this is the Ice Dragon. The blue eye points north and the dragon´s tail will take you south," Robb remarked.

His brother´s words made Jon smile.

"A fire-breathing dragon would be better!" he replied and heard Robb´s hoarse laughter.

Robb nodded his head.

"Aye, a warm fire would be nice."

"And Old Nan´s pies…I would kill for one of those," Jon added and heard his grumbling stomach.

"Chicken tights with onions would be better," Robb countered and so it went on and on. They pictured the food that awaited them at home. They also continued exchanging their knowledge about the stars. Jon was able to find the King´s Crown and Robb the Galley and the Shadowcat.

To avoid falling asleep they exercised all few hours. They ran around and made sure their horses were well. Just moving their legs and hands proved very strenuous. With every passing hour they grew more and more tired. Soon Jon´s eyes felt heavy and his body was even worse. He felt like someone loaded huge stones into his pockets.

Afraid of falling asleep Jon started to tell stories to Robb. Slowly he recounted the Story of Bran the Builder, the Burning of Harrenhall and many more. Yet the stories were not enough to fill the countless hours. Jon started to tell his brother about the History of the Seven Kingdoms. He recounted the bloody Dance of the Dragons, the demise of Daemon Blackfyre before continuing with the Conquest of Dorne. Jon knew the most about the Conquest since he read all of Maester Luwin´s books on the topic. It was so easy for him to loose himself in the accomplishments of those great men when the cold winter winds howled around the Library Tower.

It felt like an eternity until the first morning light spread over the sky. Slowly the sunlight painted the sky in bright colours of violet and orange. It also brought back the warmth they longed for throughout the night.

Feeling numb from the cold Jon pulled himself to his feet and shoved Robb. His brother growled and cursed, but Jon was relieved by the noises.

"Let´s move," Jon suggested and it frightened him how raw his voice sounded."I am sure we will find our way with this clear sky."

"I am sure you are right," Robb stuttered hopping from one foot to the other as they made their way back to the horses.

Climbing back on his horse Jon continued to flex his hands, twitched his feet and arched his back.

Robb flashed him a fleeing smile."Soon we will be sitting in front of a warm hearth," he said and to Jon is almost sounded like a promise.

Carefully they manoeuvred their horses through the fresh fallen snow. Frost jewelled the leaves and twigs. Once they even spotted a rabbit rushing through the underwood which made Jon think about Old Nan´s hare stew.

And Jon was right. In the bright morning light they found the path they used.

"I think this tree is familiar!" Jon said and pointed at the pine tree.

"That´s the tree with the crooked crown," Robb agreed."I think we have to ride straight ahead. I am sure."

In silence they followed the path and soon they saw the familiar grey walls of their home rising in the distance.

"Winterfell!" Robb suddenly exclaimed and Jon nearly dropped out of his saddle as he heard Robb´s cry of excitement."I think I can see the Broken Tower. We truly made it back."

It was true. Rising above the tree crowns he saw a peak of the broken tower which was the home to hundreds of ravens. Jon saw them hovering over the castle.

As they approached the Hunter´s Gate men came running towards them. Among them was Ser Roderik all grim and grey-eyed.

"Where have you two been?" He asked with suppressed anger, but Jon also saw the relief shining in his eyes.

"Ser Roderik…forgive us …we got lost," Robb apologized, but Ser Roderik´s expression showed that he had no intention on going easy on them.

"Spare me your excuses, my young lord. I warned you often enough to keep close to the walls, but try instilling reason into two foolish boys," he muttered and shook his head."Your father sent men to search for you. They searched through the whole night, but found no trace. We thought the worst and Lady Stark was beyond herself with worry."

His words alarmed Jon. It made him forget about his need for food or warmth. Suddenly the cold woods seemed much more comfortable.

Robb dropped his head.

"I can only ask for forgiveness. It was my fault. I asked Jon to ride deeper into the woods," Robb explained and climbed down from his horse.

Jon felt affection flood through his veins.

_He is trying to protect me._

Still Jon´s pride was stronger. He had no intention to let his brother bear the burden alone.

"It was both our fault, but I am prepared to face my punishment."

Their words seemed to satisfy Ser Roderik enough and he sent them back to the castle.

Inside they were greeted by Arya who jumped straight into his arms.

"You are back!" she exclaimed and nuzzled her head against his neck. A smile hushed over his lips and he ruffled her hair after settling her back on the ground.

"We got lost, but now we are back," he explained his voice automatically softening.

Arya brushed her hair out of her face and smiled.

"Bran thought you were eaten by a bear and Theon claimed he saw you two stolen by Wildlings. Mother slapped him for his words. You should be careful. She was very angry."

Jon bit his lips and nodded his head in understanding.

"Thank you for the warning, little sister. I think it is best for you to go back to your rooms. Robb and I can handle this."

Arya bobbed her head and rushed away.

Robb nodded and the both of them went to face their punishment.

Surprisingly their father was alone. He looked angry, but when he embraced them each Jon knew that he was also very relieved to have them back.

"We thought you were dead," their father muttered and eyed them from head to toe.

He gently touched Jon´s cheek and then moved to ruffled through Robb´s hair.

"What happened? Where have you been?" he asked and gave them each a grim look."Tom and Harwin have been searching for the whole night, but they found no trace."

Jon felt so overwhelmed that it fell to Robb to answer their father´s questions. He saw the tears shining in his brother´s eyes and the guilt contorting his face.

"Forgive us," Robb said and dropped his gaze to his boots."We didn´t listen…we rode to deep into the woods…what can I say."

Their father´s face softened and he grasped Robb´s shoulder."Of course I forgive you, but this was utterly foolish. You have to promise me to never do that again. Only the gods know what could have happened," his father muttered.

Robb didn't hesitate to give his answer.

"I promise, Father."

Then Lord Stark looked over to Jon.

Jon shook his head in understanding.

"I promise."

"Good," Lord Stark said and a small smile crossed over his lips."And now get changed and take a warm bath. I will await you later during dinner."

Jon felt utterly relieved, but it confused him that Lady Stark was not here.

"Father," Jon called to Lord Stark."Where is Lady Stark?"

A hint of worry washed over his father´s face."Lady Stark was very frightened. Maester Luwin brewed a sleeping draught for her. Tomorrow you will be able to speak to her."

"She was very upset. Give her time and I am sure she will understand. Of course the two of you will receive a proper punishment, but you gave me your promise and I believe you. I am sure Lady Stark will see it the same way…I will make her understand, I promise."

Jon wanted to believe him, but in the end it came much worse.

Both Jon and Robb grew sick. It started on the next day with shivering and fever. For days he slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he dreamed, but none of his dreams were pleasant. He feared for Robb and sometimes he wished the fever would take him away. In his darkest hours when his body was wrecked by coughing he imagined Robb´s death.

_What if Robb died? What would Lady Stark do? What would he do?_

On his better days he received visits by Arya and Bran. Arya blabbered about her adventures and Bran slipped him cookies he stole from the kitchen. When his fever grew too worrisome even Sansa came to see him and hummed a soft song to him.

Soon Jon was unable to discern how much time had passed since the beginning of his illness. Occasionally he asked Maester Luwin and found out that nearly three weeks had passed.

Nearly a moon later the fever finally broke and his symptoms eased. His coughing lessened and he was even able to stand for brief hours every day.

Every day Maester Luwin also brought him droughts and potions to strengthen him back to health, but what he wanted the most was to see Robb.

"How is Robb?" he dared to ask Maester Luwin."When will I be able to see him?"

Maester Luwin wrinkled his brows and touched his head."He is on the way to recovery, but Lady Stark doesn´t allow visitors…at least for now. Once your brother is back to health he will come to you. Anyway, you should rest yourself. You are still pale as a sheet and should eat more."

Jon was disappointed, but understood Lady Stark´s wishes. Robb is her son.

Another two weeks passed and Jon grew increasingly bored. Maester Luwin gladly provided him with reading material, but soon he longed for the snow, his horse and most of all for his practice sword.

Such thoughts made him only more eager to see Robb, but no matter how often he asked Maester Luwin always found another excuse.

Growing frustrated he set out to speak to his father. It was still early in the morning and he hoped that none of the servants spotted him as he slipped out of his room.

With soft steps he sneaked over the corridors and made his way to his father´s solar. He knew that he will be able to find him there. Lord Stark had the habit of studying his correspondence every morning before joining them for breakfast.

With a beating heart he stepped closer to the closed door, but stopped abruptly as he realized that Lord Stark was not alone.

"I heard your complaints, but the boy is still sick," he heard his father´s voice. It was clear and sharp liked ice.

"Maester Luwin assured me the boy is well enough. Twelve years I endured his presence. The gods know I was patient with the boy, but Robb nearly died. Your heir nearly died and you act like nothing happened…," he heard Lady Stark´s agitated voice.

"I understand your feelings, but stop blaming the boy. Robb told me they both were at fault and the gods know the both of them were punished enough," he heard his father´s irritated reply."What do you want me to do? Take a child from his home, because of an act of stupidity? Have you no heart?"

A moment of utter silence followed.

Jon wished he never came here, but he was unable to move. He felt like frozen to the ground.

"I never wished harm upon the boy. I just want him gone of my sight. Lord Hornwood has a bastard and he sent him to be fostered by Lord Glover. Half of the lords in the realm have bastards and have them fostered away from their trueborn children," Lady Stark threw back and with every spoken word the strength in her voice increased."Why should this boy be special? Why do you favor him so much over your trueborn children?"

Another moment of silence followed and Jon waited for his father´s answer.

"Is it because of his mother?" she asked her voice raw with pain."Do you still love her?"

Jon instinctively moved closer to the door and a shiver ran down his spine. Jon asked his father numerous times to tell him about his mother, but he never gave him an answer. His heart bloomed with hope and he didn´t even care that the question was posed by Lady Stark.

He only wanted to know.

Pressing his hear as close as possible against the door he was even able to hear the subtle movements on the stone floor.

"Cat," he heard his father´s sorrowful tone."Jon´s mother is a matter of the past…you know that."

"You surely don´t act like it. Then why can´t you even tell me the woman´s name if she means nothing to you?" Lady Stark demanded to know and for the first time in his life he cheered for the woman who resented him all his life.

"I can´t tell you…I can´t," his father replied with a faltering voice.

"I am your wife!" he heard Lady Stark´s shrill retort.

"And I am still the Lord of Winterfell! I decide what is best for my son!" Lord Stark´s loud voice put an end to their discussion.

Jon was so captivated by their exchange that he was unable to get away before the door opened.

Helplessly he stumbled backwards.

His father´s grey eyes widened in surprise as he saw him grouching there on the ground.

"What are you doing here, Jon?" he asked."Did you hear everything?"

"Of course he did," Lady Stark said and flashed him a displeased look."He was eavesdropping."

Her father waved his hand at her and granted Jon a gentle smile.

"Tell me what brings you here?"

Jon shivered under Lady Stark´s icy look. No even his father´s warm words soothed him in that moment.

"Father…Lady Stark is right. You should send me away, but…but…before please…I only want to know one thing…," he stuttered and paused for a moment to catch his breath.

"What do you want to know?" his father asked softly.

Jon breathed deeply before giving his answer.

"I want to know about my mother," he declared and closed his eyes.

The only thing he heard was his father´s breathing and a gentle touch on his brow.

"Jon…you are still too young. The matter with your mother is difficult…a few more years and I promise I will tell you…," his father tried to explain, but Lady Stark interrupted him.

"Gods, Ned. The boy demand is reasonable. He deserves to know just as much as myself," she remarked with growing irritation.

Jon saw the anger showing in Lord Stark´s eyes, but he kept composed and helped Jon back to his feet.

"Jon…please go back to bed. We will speak later."

Jon realized it was best to leave.

"Yes, father," he replied obediently and ran back to his room. Later that evening his father finally came to see him.

He looked very tired, but smiled when Jon sat up and turned to look at him.

"I see you are awake," his father remarked and settled down on the bed.

Then he ruffled through Jon´s dark locks.

"I am sorry for eavesdropping…I hope Lady Stark isn´t too angry…," Jon apologized.

A sad smile crossed his father´s lips.

"Her resentment is not meant for you, but for me. For my actions alone," he insisted, but it didn´t soothe Jon´s pain.

"I understand…I do," Jon replied."I don´t mind leaving, but before this…please…I beg you again to tell me about my mother."

"Jon…I am not going to send you away and regarding your mother…I will tell you when you are old enough."

Yet Jon had no intention to give in.

"I am twelve and soon thirteen...I am old enough to know," he stuttered."Please father…I need to know."

Lord Stark looked torn, but his pleading achieved a small victory.

"I will think about it, but now you have to rest."

…


	2. Ned

 

Three weeks passed and no peace returned to his home. His wife avoided him and his sons were depressed. Due to Cat´s insistence Robb had to stay away from Jon, but soon Ned intervened and allowed Jon to visit his brother. This only intensified the growing resentment. He understood her anger, but he also had to consider the promise he gave to Jon´s mother, his dear sister.

Twelve years he harboured her secret, but now his lies caught up with him. Everyday he struggled with himself. It would be so easy and relieving to tell Cat the truth, but he feared Jon´s reaction. All his life he has been belittled for being a would he think once he hears the truth?

Yet when the boy looked at him with those innocent eyes swimming with tears he nearly gave in.

_He nearly died_ , Ned realized. The boy might have died never knowing the truth and that his mother loved him dearly. That he was a child of love even though his parent´s union brought so much bloodshed over the Seven Kingdoms.

_He needs to know_ , he knew, but was still unable to go.

Another two weeks passed and his two sons were back to health, but Cat still avoided him. Her coldness pained him, but also the children suffered under the conflict. They were even beginning to take sides. Yesterday Arya poured a bowl of broth over Sansa after she made an unpleasant remark about Jon. Tom spent half an hour to tear them apart and Ned had to banish the girls to their rooms to calm down.

Cat´s accusing look told him everything he needed to know. See what the boy´s presence is doing to our family.

In those moments it was more than tempting to tell her the truth, but he feared her anger.

What would she think about the treachery he committed against his King?

After the war he justified his actions with the fact that he hardly knew his new bride. He had no reason to entrust her with such a secret, but over the years he had come to love her. There was no question that she was a loving mother to his children, but the issue with Jon pained her deeper than Ned anticipated.

_I was a blind man_ , Ned realized and sighed. Then he stood and went to the window. Down in the courtyard the boys were training and laughing.

"You are so quite these days, brother," Benjen´s voice roused him out of his deep thoughts. He arrived yesterday paying them his annual visit. The children were of course delighted to see him again. All night they sat huddled before the warm hearth and listened his brother´s fantastical stories about giants and Wildlings. Half of it was nonsense of course, but Ned didn´t have the heart to take away their happiness. They will learn fast enough that the world is not like in the stories.

"My mind his heavy with worry," Ned replied and decided to be honest with his brother.

Benjen smiled and settled down next to him.

"I heard about the incident with the boys. It seems your secrets have caught up with you," he remarked, but not in a judging tone. It was merely the honest opinion of his brother.

Ned sighed."What do you think I should do?"

"I know your reasons, but sometimes the truth can be liberating. I know that you are afraid that the King will find out, but neither your wife nor Jon strike me as so foolish to reveal such a dangerous secret. I think you should trust your family."

"I promised our sister…," Ned protested, but Benjen cut him off."Our sister would have wanted her son to be happy. I understand your reasons, but give the boy a possibility to know the truth and to make peace with it. This is my advice for you, brother."

After giving his opinion Benjen rose to his feet and moved to the door.

Ned was not pleased with his brother´s words, but he was right. Jon needed to hear the truth.

Realizing this he called after Benjen."I thank you, brother."

Benjen smiled at him through the room."I am glad to be of service."

True to his conviction Ned called for Jon and led him down to the crypts of Winterfell.

Jon carried a confused look, but Ned didn´t speak a word until they reached the graves of his father, brother and his beloved sister Lyanna.

"Father," Jon addressed Ned with a trembling voice."Why did you bring me here to grandfather´s grave?"

Smiling down at the boy Ned handed him the burning torch.

"You wanted to speak about your mother. After pondering over the matter I came to the conclusion that you should know about her. I chose this place, because nobody would ever dare to bother us down here…and…," Ned tried to explain, but his voice faltered.

Ned felt Jon´s gentle touch on his arm.

"And… father?" Jon asked his eyes filled with expectation.

"And because my father´s and brother´s fate are intertwined with your mother´s past," he continued and paused again. Then he exhaled deeply before revealing the truth."It is true. I never told you her name, but that is because you already knew it. She was always here resting in the crypts next to my father and brother. My sister Lyanna was your mother."

Ned didn´t dare to meet Jon´s gaze. He only felt the boy´s tight grip on his arm.

"Father," Jon said with a trembling voice."That can´t be…you would never…with your own sister…."

A painful laugh escaped Ned and he touched Jon´s head.

"Oh, no. I never fathered you on my sister. This means I am not your true father…your father was someone else…It was Rhaegar Targaryen…the Last Dragon."

Utter horror spread over the boy´s face. Seeing his pain Ned had a hard time keeping composed.

"But he…he…took her away…he raped her…if I am his child…then," the boy stuttered fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Ned shivered.

"My boy Rhaegar never raped her. It was a lie…a lie King Robert believed because he loved her dearly. The truth is that your mother never returned Robert´s affections. She loved your father…Prince Rhaegar and ran away with him. They were wed and after King Rhaegar was slain at the Trident we found her dying in a tower in Dorne. We slew the proud men of the King´s Guard that protected her unaware of the truth, but when we found her she told me everything. With her last words she asked me to protect you. She knew what happened to Princess Elia and her children. They were butchered and I named you my bastard to protect you from such a fate."

A moment of utter silence followed and the grip of Jon´s hand loosened.

Ned inclined his head and looked down at the boy. He was pale as a sheet and for a moment he feared he might collapse.

He saw the pain and anger burning all too clear in his eyes.

"This means…I am…and never was a bastard," Jon stuttered and Ned nodded his head in affirmation.

"I understand if you are angered by my actions, but I can still see the butchered corpses in front of me when I close my eyes. Tywin Lannister laid them out before Robert´s feet and rejoiced over the butchery of children."

"Do you know what he said when I made my disagreement known?" Ned asked.

"What did he say?"

"I don´t see children…only dragonspawn!" Ned replied and intoned Robert´s powerful voice.

Jon shivered visibly.

Ned felt helpless. What could he say to make it better?

Lacking the necessary words he knelt down and embraced the boy. Jon leaned his head against Ned´s shoulder and cried until no tears remained.

Afterwards Ned ruffled his hair.

"I am sure you understand that nobody can know about this."

Jon shook his head in understanding."I swear I will never tell anyone."

"Good," Ned whispered back and together they made their way back up the whirling steps.

Before they reached the door Jon´s voice made him stop.

"Will you also tell Lady Stark?"

Ned frowned, but nodded his head in affirmation." I will, but not now. Her bitterness and anger would only blind her."

Ned saw the disappointment flickering in the boy´s eyes, but Ned knew his wife better than anyone.

Outside the sky was tinged in red and orange. The night was near.

Despite the tears Ned felt strangely relieved. It felt like a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders.

_Benjen was right. The truth can be liberating._

In the following days he tried to find the courage to speak to his wife, but every time he faltered when he saw her cold look.

Two days before Benjen´s departure Jon came to speak to him again.

"Father," he greeted politely as he stepped into his solar. It was still early in the morning and he sat over the correspondence Maester Luwin laid out for him.

Ned waved his hand towards a chair."Please sit down."

Jon nodded his head, but closed the door before sitting down. His actions confused Ned, but he didn´t comment on it.

"What brings you to me?" Ned inquired and put the parchment away.

"I wanted to ask for a favor," Jon replied in a slightly insecure manner.

"Name your favor and I will try to grant it," Ned offered in return and he saw a small smile hush over Jon´s lips.

"I thank you," Jon replied, but seemed still hesitant to speak."Uncle Benjen asked me to accompany him to the Wall. Not to stay of course, but to meet someone. Maester Aemon Targaryen resides there…the only relative of my father close to the North. I would also be gone for several moons until I would be able to return here to Winterfell. It would give you time enough to reconcile with Lady Stark."

Ned was sure this was all Benjen´s idea, but as he saw the hopeful look in Jon´s face he hesitatingly agreed.

"I agree, but tell your Uncle Benjen that he will have to return you personally."

A startling smile spread over Jon´s lips."Of course."


	3. Jon

The travel to the Wall took them nearly two weeks. Two weeks of storms and sleeping outside under a wide sky. Jon felt free despite the constant discomfort. Granted he loved his home Winterfell and was sure to miss it, but his mind was set the moment Lord Stark agreed to Uncle Benjen´s suggestion.

The thought made his heart ache with fresh pain.  _I can´t go back._

Even if Lord Stark told his wife the truth, Jon was unsure how she will react to the news.  _I might not be her husband´s bastard, but I am still a threat to her family. The son of a traitor and if the King ever finds out he will put my whole family to the sword._

The truth still felt unreal to him, but he knew that Lord Stark told him the truth. Lyanna Stark was his mother and his father was Rhaegar Targaryen. All his life he wanted to be nothing more than a Stark and the son of Eddard Stark, but now he was a Targaryen. All his his life he had believed to be the result of a simple "tumble in the sheets" as Theon liked to put it when he was bedding one of his many girls, but now he knew that none of this was true.

 _My mother loved my father_. He was child wanted from both his parents, despite all this blood that was shed on his account. It filled him both with guilt and happiness.

Of course he felt guilty for lying, but he was sure Lady Stark will be more than pleased if he didn´t return to Winterfell. Leaving Lord Stark and his siblings hurt, but even before he knew the truth he was aware of the fact that his time in Winterfell will be limited. Eventually Lord Stark would have been forced to send him away or Jon would have donned the Black. A few more years meant nothing.

Jon wanted to go to the Wall to meet Maester Aemon Targaryen, but there were two others left in this world. He heard Lord Stark talk about them once. Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys Targaryen lost beyond the Narrow Sea.

Sometimes he imagined them. In his mind they looked like the Targaryens of old all silver haired and purple eyes. Occasionally he imagined meeting them and speaking to them. Of course those were the daydreams of a foolish boy, but it made him wonder if they would even accept or believe him.

_Would they hate or love me? I am their nephew am I not? But, my existence caused the downfall of their family._

Realizing the foolishness of his thoughts he brushed them away once he arrived at Castle Black. It was easer than the thought, for there was much to see. His mouth stood open when he saw the Wall. It was a massive wall of ice and maybe seven hundred feet tall. In the pale morning light it´s walls appeared blue as frost.

Castle Black was less impressive and consisted of several timber keeps and stone towers.

During their first meal everyone threw Benjen and him curious looks and all of his brothers wanted to know if he brought his boy to serve the watch. Some of them obviously assumed Jon was Benjen´s son which was not that farfetched as they showed a certain resemblance to each other.

Jon didn´t take it as an insult, for he knew the truth.  _I am no bastard, no matter what they call me. They can all think what they want, but it won´t change the truth._

So he smiled and talked to everyone and later he was even invited to spar with the recruits. The lesson was conducted by a gloomy knight named Ser Alliser that threw glowering looks at Jon when ever he even dared to speak to him. Later during dinner Benjen explained the reason for the man´s anger..

"Ser Alliser stayed loyal to the Targaryens during the Rebellion and was forced to take the black after King Aerys death. He considers my brother responsible for his demise and as you are his known bastard…I think you understand what I am trying to tell you…"

Jon chewed on the hard bread and dipped into the broth. He ignored the taste and poured it down with the bitter ale.

Benjen laughed when he saw his grimace."You get used to the taste. It is certainly not what we are known for."

Jon nodded his head.

"Uncle Benjen, did you speak the Lord Commander? When can I meet the Maester?"

Benjen took a hearty bite from his bread and brushed his hair out of his face.

"Aye," he replied between chewing."The Lord Commander gave his approval, but don´t be surprised if the Maester will try to convince you to stay. We are always in dire need of men and a boy like you, castle-trained is worth more than a hundred criminals from the south. The Lord Commander thinks I brought you here to groom you for the Night´s Watch. Of course I kept my answers vague, but it is a future to consider…knowing who you are."

Jon was stunned into silence by his Uncle´s words. He considered joining the Night´s Watch, but that was before he knew the truth. Yet he had great respect for his Uncle and didn´t wish to betray his true plans.

He smiled nodded his head and turned his attention back to his food.

Later that evening he was finally allowed to see the Maester who resided in a stout wooden keep beneath the rookery. The sharp smell of ink and raven shit met Jon´s nose when he entered. It was the natural smell associated with a Maester of the Citadel.

Jon expected to find an old man, but when he laid eyes on Maester Aemon he was rather shocked. He was bald, wrinkled, shrunken and blind.

"Who is there?" the old man called out, his voice soft as raven feathers. It made Jon long to stay here forever and listen to it.

"It is me…Jon Snow…Lord Stark´s son," he explained."My Uncle Benjen told me you are prepared to speak alone to me."

The Maester´s lips curled into a smile and he leaned forward."Your Uncle informed me about your visit, but I am not sure what you could want from an old man like me. If you want to know about the Night´s Watch you should speak with the Lord Commander and not to an old man like me who can´t even attend a privy without the help of his stewards."

Jon felt like his tongue was tied into knots. He breathed deeply and forced himself to speak slow and clear.

"I apologize, but what I want to talk about is not something I can put into writing," he tried to explain."Truly you are the only one who can help me."

The old man seemed intrigued by his words."Well, then speak. How can I help you, my boy?"

Jon needed all his courage to speak.

"You know that I carry the name Snow and thus Lady Stark is not my mother. In truth I only recently learned about my mother. I know who she is, but I also found out that…that…Lord Stark is not my father," he tried to explain, but at the last part he lost his ability to speak and needed to stop for a brief moment. His heart was beating rapidly and when he looked at the Maester he only saw confusion washing over his face.

"I don´t understand. While it is certainly regretful for you to be lied to for such a long time I am unable to grasp what all of this has to do with me."

Jon breathed deeply and grasped the table, before pushing himself to continue.

"You see…my mother is someone you might be familiar with. My mother was Lyanna Stark. She died giving birth to me in a tower in Dorne. Lord Stark brought me home to Winterfell and named me his bastard to protect me from King Robert´s wrath."

The old Maester grew still as death and his unseeing eyes widened. His whole upper body started to shiver and Jon feared the man might collapse.

"And your father…who was your father?" the Maester asked with a whispery tone.

Jon thought the answer was quite obvious, but it seemed the Maester wanted to hear it from his mouth.

"Rhaegar Targaryen, The Last Dragon," he whispered back and leaned closer.

The Maester started to shiver violently which compelled Jon to move closer. Carefully he touched he man´s gnarled hands.

"I apologize if my words upset you, good Maester. Yet you are my only relative close to the North and I hoped you would be able to tell me more about my father," he explained. The Maester didn't scold him, but touched his face.

His finger´s wander over the contours of his face. He touched his brow, his cheeks, his mouth and the nose. Then the old man let his hands drop back into his lap. Jon saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Forgive the tears of an old man," he apologized."But I never expected to meet another member of my family before I die. The only other two alive are lost beyond the Narrow Sea…forgive me."

Jon felt helpless, but relieved that he was no angered by his visit.

"There is nothing to forgive," Jon replied."I am happy to meet you."

The old man nodded and brushed his tears away with the hem of his robe.

"You have the fine features of a Targaryen, but I assume in your colouring you favour after your mother."

Jon nodded head."Aye, I have dark hair and dark grey eyes. In Winterfell everyone always remarks how much I look like Lord Stark."

The old man laughed."Well, I think you have brother´s nose if it helps to ease your mind and your father Prince Rhaegar had dark eyes…almost indigo."

Jon´s curiosity was roused by the Maester´s words."My father…did you ever meet him in person?"

The Maester nodded his head in affirmation."I did…two times. Once as a child once he came to visit me after he married Princess Elia."

"What was he like?" Jon asked. He needed to be careful, but he longed to know more.

The Maester gave him a pained smile."There was a certain sadness about him, but not in a mad way. He was a good man, but he also had a certain affection for prophecy. He often wrote to me about such matters. Like my brother Egg he also dreamed of dragons and I think that is why he liked going to Summerhall."

Jon listened attentively and tried to memorize everything the Maester told him. Of course he heard about the Tragedy of Summerhall. It was said that King Aegon wanted to wake dragons, but brought destruction over his own house.

Then there were the letters he mentioned.

"What about the letters? Did you keep them?"

The old man grew distraught over his question."I am sorry, my boy. After my family´s demise I thought it better to banish the past. It was very painful for me to hear about their death."

While Jon was disappointed by his answers, he understood his feelings.

Jon kneeled down in front of the man and grasped for both his hands."It matters not. I am thankful that I was able to meet you, grand-uncle…if you allow me to call you that."

The old man touched his dark locks and smiled affectionately.

"Of course, but this will probably the last time we meet. Your Uncle informed me that he intends to take you back once he returns from his duty as a ranger."

Jon grew sad hearing his words."He said it would be a week before he returns and that I should make myself useful while he is gone."

"You are a good boy…truly you are," the Maester remarked sand pulled his hand back before lapsing into a moment of thoughtfulness.

Jon didn´t dare disturb the old man. He was thankful to be allowed here sitting with him before the rustling fire.

"I can´t do much for you, my boy. Yet there is something I can give you…I thought my secret would die with me, but now you are here. It belongs to you…and the rest of our family…to Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys. I buried it near the Weirwood tree where the fresh recruits swear their vows. It was my family´s most precious possession and once belonged to Brynden Rivers. He was later named Lord Commander and disappeared beyond the Wall."

This surprised Jon.

"What did you hide?"

Jon felt the Maester´s pull at his arm and leaned closer.

"A sword…a precious sword. Retrieve if for me and take it with you. It is better for you to have it than allowing it to rot away in the North."

Jon tried to guess which sword he meant, but if he found he would soon see it with his own eyes.

"Of course I will go and try to retrieve it. Tell me where to find it," he offered in return.

"You will have to retrieve it alone. I will show you on my maps. Please call for my steward."

It was early morning on the next day when Jon set out accomplish his task. He travelled half a league beyond the Wall where he found a small grove containing a rough circle of nine weirwood heart trees.

Then Jon pulled out a shovel and went to work where the Maester told him to search for. Hours went by as he worked himself to the bones. The ground was hard, but came midday the sun came shining threw the grey dreary clouds.

The sun warmed him, but the effort was still great. It was evening when he finally found something hidden beneath the earth, roots and ice. It was an old cloak black as the night. The moment Jon touched the cloth it nearly fell apart. It rotted away as it lay hidden in the earth over all those years. Carefully he unfurled the cloth with an increasing heartbeat. He held his breath as he pulled away the last covering.

Indeed it was a sword, but not a common sword. It was made of Valyrian steel, unblemished among the earth and grime. Only the well-adorned hilt had faded and rotted away over the years. Jon held it up into the sun and saw how the light wafted off it´s rippled dark blade.

Now he understood why the Maester called this his most precious possession. This was Dark Sister. The sword once wielded by Ser Aemon the Dragonknight himself. He was sure, for it had a slender grip perfect for a lady as it had once been wielded by Visenya Targaryen herself.

And now it was his.

It was night when he returned to Castle Black. He hid the sword well, though nobody would have thought much of it by looking at the hilt.

He ate a small meal and then went to work. He cleaned it properly before covering it again and visiting the Maester.

"Maester…I am back…I found it," he declared quietly.

The old man´s face lightened up and Jon kneeled down and laid the blade square on his lap."It was not easy, but I was successful."

The Maester´s hand moved to touch the sword. Slowly his fingers wandered over the blade and the hilt.

"I was afraid you froze beyond the Wall," the Maester said and laughed.

Jon returned his smile. It gladdened his heart to see him so happy.

"The beautiful hilt is barely visibly anymore, but I think it is for the better. People will think of it as a simple sword made of Valyrian steel. Special for sure, but not as precious as Dark Sister."

"Once you return to Winterfell you should ask your smith to make a new hilt," the Maester suggested and Jon nodded his head, though he did not plan to return to Winterfell.

"I will," he confirmed and stood."I am tired and you look also very weary. I think I will retire."

"Of course. But before you go, please kiss my cheek," the Maester asked of him. It was a strange wish, but Jon didn´t mind and leaned down and kissed his wrinkled cheek.

Tears rolled down the old man´s cheek, but Jon didn´t dare to ask the reason.

Then he went to his sleeping place, trying to find sleep with all the plans whirling through his mind.

He knew his Uncle Benjen was due to return in a few days. He knew that he had to leave tomorrow morning or it will be too late.

He slept for a few hours before he gathered the supplies he brought with him from Winterfell. It would be enough to help him get to White Harbour. He also had the gold Lord Stark gave him before travelling to the Wall. Not to mention he had his horse.

To his luck nobody thought it strange that he took a ride in the morning. His Uncle asked the Lord Commander to allow Jon to explore the Wall to his desire.

He knew his Uncle will be searching for him, but then he will be long gone.

He shivered thinking about leaving the North, but when he kissed Maester Aemon´s cheek his resolve only strengthened.

He may have gifted the sword to him, but he was not the only Targaryen left in the world. There were his Uncle and Aunt beyond the Narrow Sea.

He had no idea how or if he will be able to find them, but he wanted to try.

 _I will kiss each their cheeks and bring them greetings form their grand-uncle_ , he thought and determination bloomed in his heart.

Then he moved his horse forward and didn´t look back.

…


	4. Ned

Ned found Cat in her small Sept lightening candles for her gods. She often ventured there these days and Ned knew why. It was a place where nobody would disturb her.

Ned had hoped Jon's departure would curb her anger, but he was wrong about that too. Three days had passed and she still ignored him. Even Maester Luwin was throwing him strange looks and advised him to speak clearly with the lady if he wanted to bring back peace to Winterfell.

So here he was and had to gather all his courage to speak to his own wife. He felt again like the green boy of nineteen who married her in the Sept in Riverrun.

"Cat," he called out to her. His voice roused her out of her silence and she turned back to look at him. She tried to appear indifferent and her demeanour was stiff.

"What brings you here?" she asked and hitched up her skirt.

Ned swallowed hard before giving his answer.

"I think we should speak. About Jon…about everything."

Something like surprise crossed over her face, but was soon hidden away by the blank look of suppressed anger she was giving him these days.

"Indeed…we should talk," she replied tensely."Let us go back inside."

Ned nodded and together they made their way back inside.

He poured himself and Cat each a goblet of wine as he tried to steel himself for the talk lying ahead.

Cat threw him a strange look as he handed her the goblet of wine.

"Why do we need the wine?" she asked and Ned settled down next to her.

"Believe me when I say that you will need it," was the only explanation she received from him before he started to drink greedily. The sweet taste was calming for his strained nerves and made him recall sweeter days when he was a boy a boy in the Vale and no Lord.

Cat wrinkled her brows and put the goblet away. It seems the wine was no great comfort to her.

"Ned, you are shivering," she remarked and he heard the hint of concern ringing in her voice."You are scaring me. What can be so terrible about the boy's mother that you can't tell me?"

Ned put the goblet away and tried to find a way to approach this topic.

Lacking the proper words he began with the first thing that came to his mind.

"My sister…do you remember her?" he asked.

Cat's eyes widened in surprise and she nodded her head in affirmation.

"I remember her, though we only spoke briefly. I was more concerned with the wedding preparations for my and your brother's wedding…I think it was a few days before she disappeared."

"And do you know what happened in Harrenhall?" he asked and moved closer.

Her eyes grew only wider. It was like looking into a wide the summer sky.

"Of course, I know. Lord Whent wanted to show off his pretty daughters and hosted a large Tourney. Everybody was there. King Aerys, his son, his wife, Princess Elia and the whole court. In the end Prince Rhaegar won the tilt and crowned your sister as his Queen and Love and Beauty. I remember clearly, because Brandon was so very upset about it. I suppose it was inevitable what happened to him in the end…he always had quite the temper."

Ned gritted his teeth. All of this was always meant for his brother Brandon. Cat, Winterfell…

Before his brother's death Ned imagined marrying Ashara Dayne or another southern lady of his choice, but in the end Brandon died and Ned had to do his duty. Now this duty was more a pleasure than a pain to him, but it didn't wash away the ache he felt over his loss. In regards to his sister he felt much the same.

"Not temper…my father always called it the wolfsblood…my sister had it too," he replied and instinctively grasped for her hand.

He expected her to push it away given her anger, but she didn't.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with Jon's mother," she said and paused for a moment as if to ponder about all the things he told her. Then her face lightened up with realization."Then it has to be Ashara Dayne. Brandon told me how he got her to dance with you…so I was right all along."

A bitter laugh escaped him. He would gladly name Jon his and Ashara Dayne's son, but the truth was far more terrible.

He dropped his head, exhaled deeply and squeezed her hand.

"Ashara Dayne wasn't Jon's mother. It is true that I danced with her and admired her, but so did countless other men. Even Brandon admired her greatly," he explained and she gave him a knowing look.

"I always knew what kind of a man he was," she said and a fleeing smile crossed over her lips."I was sure he would change his ways once we are wed. I admit it was a foolish belief."

Ned nodded his head. He knew what kind of a man his brother was. Not unlike Robert he liked to charm the ladies and often hopped from one bed to the other.

"I was a fool too. I thought with time my sister would warm up to Robert, but I was blinded by my feelings of friendship. She desperately tried to convince our father to call the betrothal off and I even supported father's decision. I still remember the tears and angry words. Lya was never one to act the obedient daughter…I should have known better," Ned admitted with full honesty.

Naturally Cat lacked the knowledge to understand the full meaning of his words, but it still felt good to voice his honest thoughts on the matter.

Her grip tightened around his hand."She sounds like a spirited girl…much like our Arya, but I still do not understand what this has to do with Jon."

Ned sighed and ruffled through his hair."As you rightly said…my sister was a spirited girl like our Arya. She loved riding and would have carried a sword if father allowed it. She even once gave a bunch of Frey squires a beating when they insulted one of my father's bannermen. Truly, my sister would have never allowed the Dragon Prince to carry her off against her will. I should have seen the truth, but Robert was so convinced that the Dragon Prince took her…and Brandon, well he died for his heated reaction."

Ned saw a thousand emotions playing on her face. Truly, he knew he was behaving foolish. He knew she deserved the plain truth, but after lying for so many years it was hard for him to get it out. It felt as if his tongue was tied into hundreds of knots.

"Then Robert was wrong?" she asked with a strained voice."So the Dragon Prince didn't take her?"

Ned nodded his head and had to force the following words out of his mouth.

"She went out of her own free will. I don't know how or why Brandon was so convinced that he kidnapped her, but I suppose it was the only logical conclusion after the incident in Harrenhall. I didn't know either until I found her in Dorne…in her tower…where she died…," he tried to explain, but at the last part his voice faltered and he lacked the breath.

He saw the expression of understanding wash over her face and inwardly he steeled himself for what lay ahead. In his head he rehearsed this situation a thousand times, but he never expected for it to come to pass.

"She died from a fever…that is what you told me," Cat continued and shivered visibly."I suppose it was no common fever…," she added, but couldn't speak further. Then her grip loosened and her hand dropped back into her lap. She was utterly silent and staring back at him as if to beckon him to continue for her.

Ned breathed deeply and continued his explanation."No…it was the birthing fever that took her. The child…I named him my bastard to protect him…they married…and Robert… he only knew rage for the Targaryens…he rejoiced over the children's butchered bodies…I was afraid…," he stuttered, but lacked the strength to continue.

He looked back at her and saw a mixture of anger, disappointment and fear shining in her eyes.

"I understand why you were afraid," she told him her voice barely a whisper."I even understand why you named the boy your bastard, but what I don't understand is that you didn't think me trustworthy enough to tell me about your secret. Did you honestly think I would betray it to Robert and risk my families' survival?"

Ned didn't know what to say. It was as if he unlearned his ability to speak. Why didn't he tell her?

He tried to be as honest as possible. She deserved so much.

"I hardly knew you and as the years passed it grew harder and harder to speak the truth. I thought you would hate me….I was a coward," he admitted and watched as pain and hurt washed over her face.

He saw the tears glimmering in her eyes as she rose to her feet and moved towards the door.

He knew there was no use to follow after her. She needed time to process everything and he had no right to take that away from her.

…


	5. Jon

The wind howled and the waves rolled beneath the ship. It's taste was salty and spoke of the sea and freedom. The Pink Maiden was a beautiful and strongly-build galley, but that didn't make the travel more pleasant. Jon was a boy born in the North and unused to the whipping of a ship and the storms that haunted them almost every night. For days he spent vomiting and was hardly able to keep his food inside. One of the sailors took pity on him and brought him a small bundle of herbs to dissolve in water. Every morning he forced himself to pour down the tea. The bitter taste made him want to retch out his food again, but slowly the sickness started to dissipate.

After a week of suffering he was finally able to make himself useful. He spent his time helping with mundane tasks, though he was probably more of a burden than a help to the sailor who asked him all kinds of questions.

They asked him where he came from? Why he was sailing to Essos?

Jon intentionally kept his answers vague. To them he was a bastard of the North who intends to make his luck in the Free Cities. What made their conversations even more difficult was the fact that all of them spoke Bastard Valyrian.

It made Jon aware of another problem. If he wanted to travel to the Free Cities he needs to be able to make himself known. Determined to close his gap of knowledge he tried memorizing the bits and pieces he heard from the sailors, but soon he realized that most of them were not interested in becoming his language teachers. The Captain's curious daughter seemed to recognize his need for a conversation partner and started talking to him. Like all young children she enjoyed to blabber and to flood him with questions. Thus Jon learned a great deal about her life and family. Her name was Mella and she was the youngest of three sisters. She also considered her father the best sailor in Volantis. Jon doubted that was a fact, but he had a hard time denying the girl's firm belief.

At first he thought it was his loneliness, but soon he realized why he liked the girl's presence so much. She was like his little sister Arya. She didn't particularly care about dressing properly and wasn't afraid to punch one of the boys when they teased her or tried pulling on her long braids.

As time passed his speaking abilities improved. Soon he was able to speak in broken sentences and pieces, though the sailors often broke out in laughter when they heard his bad pronunciation. Sometimes, when they were in good spirits, they corrected him, but Jon always felt a bit of a fool.

The Captain was different. It seems his companionship with Mella made the man curious about him and so he occasionally invited him to dine with him.

He was an older man of nearly sixty, his skin dark and rough like old leather. He was a man far-travelled and to Jon's delight prepared to answer his many questions about Essos and about the the Free Cities.

He told him everything he knew. About the different cultures, their customs and where the find the best whores, though he only spoke of such crude things when he was drunk on his favourite wine and when none if his girls was present. Apparently, his dead wife would curse him beyond her grave if dared to corrupt their daughters. However, the most useful aspect of their conversations was that he corrected his speaking. So after a moon on sea Jon thought himself capable enough to get by, though the Captain laughed about his confidence.

"There are numerous dialects in every one of the Free Cities. I lived there all my life, but even I don't understand all the dialects. You will always appear a foreigner, my boy."

Jon nodded his head in understanding and ruffled through his hair.

Jon felt both excited and afraid. It felt like he was travelling to another world, leaving his old life behind, but sometimes the sharp ache in his heart reminded him of home; of Arya, Bran and Robb. He was sure his actions hurt them, but it was better this way. Twelve years Lord Stark protected him and was forced to lie to his wife. Maybe now he will finally be able to make peace with her.

"I also wonder about your plans, my boy?" the Captain asked and is dark eyes were alight with curiosity."We will soon arrive in Volantis."

Jon pondered the matter thoroughly. While he wanted to find his Aunt and Uncle, he had no idea where to start his search. His gold was also dwindling and he would need more of it if he wanted to continue his travel through the Free Cities. Unable to speak the language properly the only occupation that came to his mind was to offer his sword to one of the many sellsword companies shedding blood all over Essos.

"What I am meaning to say is that you should be careful, my boy. Once you step from this ship you keep your money close. Volantis is a place full of pickpockets and you won't live long without gold. Those slave traders know a hopeless soul just by seeing them. The Masters of Astapor have them steal boys from the streets to turn them into Unsullied. They cut off their cocks and take away everything that made them once human…," the Captain continued before Jon interrupted him.

"I have no intention of becoming a slave and I am aware of my need of money. I intend to join a company, but I still have to decide which one to choose," Jon replied and threw the older man a hopeful look."Maybe you could advise me on this matter?"

The Captain's eyes widened with shock."You want to join a Company? Have you lost your wits? How many summers do you even count?"

"I am fourteen summers old," Jon lied."I am old enough, but you do not need to worry. I only want to know which of the companies is desperate enough to hire a boy like me. I was trained with the sword, but I have never tasted blood."

Jon tried to appear confident as he spoke, but he doubted it impressed someone like this widely-travelled man.

In silence Jon watched the man's face, awaiting his answer.

"The Second Sons are desperate to recruit. They often linger in Volantis during this time of the year. They are one of the oldest sellsword companies, but their leader Mero is a nasty fellow. Calls himself the Titan's Bastard and likes to boast what a great warrior he is. If you are serious about your plans you should seek them out, but I would advice against it. Rather become a sailor or an apprentice to a merchant if you are in need of money. I see that you are a fast learner and in a few years you could be a rich man if you tried."

Jon was slightly moved by the man's concern, but he was unable to imagine becoming a sailor or a merchant.

"I thank you for your concern, good Captain," he replied and bowed his head in respect."I will seek them out."

The Captain didn't protest and bid him a good night.

A few days passed and they finally arrived in Volantis. It was fucking hot, even though the sun had barely moved over the horizon. By midday Jon was covered in sweat and drenched himself in the cool waters provided by the many springs littering the city. Then he continued his explorations.

He found there was something ancient, almost mystical to the city of Volantis. Far and wide the city spread over the mouth of the River Rhoyne with its jade shimmer, the fruitful green hills and marches growing on each side of the river bank.

The oldest district was located on the eastern side of the river and protected by the so called Black Walls, a great oval fused of dragonstone and supposedly harder than steel. Said walls rose two hundred feet high and was the staging place for the annual chariot races in honour of the cities' founding.

Jon was certainly impressed, but it was nothing compared to the Wall. Sadly, foreigners like him were banished from the Black Walls and so Jon could only imagine what lay beyond them.

On the eastern part of the river lay the newer districts of the city and harbored an equally impressive sight, the Great Temple of the Lord of Light. Proudly the Captain bragged to him that it even surpassed the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.

Jon knew the Sept of Baelor from descriptions, but he stood in awe of the building in front of him. It was an enormity of numerous pillars, steps, bridges and domes flowing all into another as if a sculptor had chiselled it from one colossal rock.

Those two different halves of the city were joined by the Long Bridge. To cross Jon had to pass an arched gateway decorated with sphinxes, manticores and dragons carved out of the same dark stones like the Black Walls. The road itself was wide enough for two carts and either side was littered with shops, taverns and brothels.

Jon felt like a fish out of water as he wandered through the crowded street pervaded with the smell of spice, shit and sweat. There he found fat merchants dressed in bright silk, half-naked girls trying to find customers, wealthy people carried in palanquins and hundreds of peddlers offering whatever came to mind.

Hungry and tired Jon entered one of the many taverns lining the street. The Captain advised him to come here and ask around.

The tavern he chose was called The Flower Garden, but the moment Jon stepped inside he realized why this place carried such a poetic name. It was also a brothel and the owner liked to refer to his girls as "flowers".

Trying to avoid attention he kept his gaze fixed to the ground and ordered something to drink. Jon felt as if all liquid had been drained out of his body as he explored the city. That he found himself in a brothel was the least of his concern in that moment, though he certainly felt uneasy. Theon often liked to brag about his visits to the brothel and the many girls he bedded. Once he even took Jon and Robb to see one, but even there most of the girls wore more clothing than here. Most of them only wore a thin piece of clothing that the women in the North wouldn't even consider fit to be small clothes.

The only good thing was that the owner and the girls liked to talk. To his surprise Jon understood them well enough, though they winced and giggled when he butchered their language with his accent.

"My girls are sweet as honey," the owner bragged to him and poured him a strange sweetened tea.

The owner was a dark-skinned man and graced with a scraggy brown beard. He called himself Leos and spoke quite pleasant for a man trading with whores.

Jon winced at the sweetness of the tea and granted the man a hesitant smile."I can see that, but I am not in need of company," he explained and took a brief glimpse at the girls. There was a great variety among them. There were pale girls from Lys, dark girls from the Summer Islands and many others.

Sadly, the owner ignored Jon's words and continued to talk. Smiling he leaned over the table and pointed at a dainty honey-colored girl dressed in a pinkish robe.

"Fifteen summers…the right age for you, my boy," he said and clucked his tongue.

Jon shivered thinking about it and poured down the sweet tea.

"I am not interested," he pronounced as polite and clear as possible."I am here for information," he explained his intend.

Finally the man seemed to understand him and dropped the topic of selling his girls.

Smiling brightly the man revealed his yellowish teeth.

"Maybe I can help?" he asked and rubbed his two fingers together which Jon interpreted as a need of money.

Jon sighed and pulled out a piece of coin. He hid it in his balled fist resting on the table.

"First…questions…then…money," he told the man and flashed him a determined look.

"I want to find the Second Sons," he explained."Where can I find them?" he asked and was unsure if he used the right word for "find."

At the mention of the Second Sons the man's face grew more serious. A moment of silence passed before the man finally answered.

"The Silk Maiden…the leader likes going there."

Satisfied with the answer Jon opened his fist and handed the man the coin before leaving.

He followed the description given to him by Leos and found another brothel, though he deduced so much from the name before even stepping inside.

Dark looks followed him and a naked woman threw her teats in to his face. Jon was barely able to move out of the way and flushed like a maid. In the distance he heard the men's laughter, but he ignored it. He wanted to offer his sword, not his cock.

"Pretty boy," a woman called out for him."Come here pretty boy," the woman repeated again. Jon thought her another whore, but once he saw her fine clothing he realized that she was the owner. Her skin was as dark as her hair, but she had sharp green eyes reminiscent of a cat.

She smiled at him as he stepped closer.

"I am Mistress Malladar," she explained."What can I do for you, pretty boy?"

Jon didn't wish to be offered another bed companion and went straight to the point, though he tried to sound as polite as possible.

"I am searching for a man named Mero…the Titan's bastard…the leader of the Second Sons," he explained and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Mero is often our guest," she explained and moved to open a door."What could a pretty boy like you want from him?"

Jon tried to appear as confident as possible."I want to offer my sword."

She didn't comment on his intentions and bowed her head in understanding.

"Please, pretty boy," she said."Follow me."

Jon followed her through a long corridor, displaying explicit pictures of men and women, to a separate room. The room held several square pools filled with steaming hot water. Sitting inside were several rough-spun men. They were all naked and in their laps sat girls who giggled and whispered sweet things into their ears.

The leader Mero was a burly man graced with pale green eyes and a long bushy beard of red-gold colour. A fat girl sat in his lap and was eating fruits from his hands as Jon came before him.

The Mistress bowed her head to him."The pretty boy wishes to speak with you," she explained and the leader's pale green eyes flickered to Jon.

He eyed him from head to toe and started to laugh."I don't like man whores," he threw back and slapped his naked thigh. Then he turned to one of his companions. He was a copper-skinned bear of a man with eyes dark as the night.

"Kaho…what do you think of the manwhore?"

The Captain was right. The leader was a shithead, but Jon was in need of money and an occupation. Both he needed if he wanted to find his Aunt and Uncle.

Gritting his teeth Jon kept his face impassive and went straight to the point.

"I want to offer my sword," he declared and bowed his head to the man.

Mero started to laugh again as did his companions safe for the man named Kaho. His dark eyes were fixed at Jon as he sat observing everything with silence.

Regaining his composure Mero stood, pulled a blanket over his shoulders and stepped out of the water.

"What is your name?" he asked and leaned closer.

"Daeron," Jon lied."A bastard from the North."

The man named Kaho smiled, but not in a mocking way. He seemed curious or even slightly amused.

"A boy from the Sunset Kingdoms," he state matter-of-factly."What brings you all the way here to us? Where are your parents? Where is your blood?"

"My father and mother are dead," Jon explained and met the man's gaze."I am here to offer my sword. I am in need of coin and I am prepared to serve."

"And you know what that means?" Mero asked.

"Blood and death," Jon replied and nodded his head.

"Indeed, but it also means that you will have to put down your name in our book," Mero explained."Two years you will have to serve. Are you up for that, pretty boy?"

Jon hated his new nickname, but the man was at least considering his wish.

"I am here to serve," Jon repeated and tried to hide his hesitation.

Mero laughed and crawled back into the pool of water.

"The Lhazareen scraped their gold together and hired us to guard their cities throughout the dry season. They fear the Dothraki hordes and are desperate for help. The Dothraki are fearsome enemies, but we have no need for green boys. The sooner you taste battle the better. If you want to join come here tomorrow morning and wait in the solar. And buy yourself a whore. Green boys like you do not often make it through their first battle. Nobody should die a maid."

Jon nodded his head in understanding, but didn't buy himself a whore. He was determined to survive his first battle and every battle that will follow.

…


	6. Cat

The raven came two days ago.  _Dark wings and dark words._

Jon Snow disappeared from the Wall. Cat was the first to read Benjen's panic-stricken words and apologies. What surprised her the most was how much it rattled her. Even knowing the truth she still had great difficulty finding warm feelings for the disappeared boy. Sure there was guilt, regret and fear, but not a hint of affection. Maybe the resentment she cultivated over the years made it impossible for her to find affection for the boy.

She certainly knew that he had a good character, but deep inside she always, no still, feared his presence. That he was so close in age to Robb and looked more like Ned than any of her other children had only made it harder for her to accept his presence. Now all her resentment was unfounded and the boy was not her husband's bastard, but his nephew.

Truly, she understood Ned's fear. She clearly recalled his nightmares after the war. It took him several years to tell her about them. She recalled with horror how he told her about the butchered babes presented to King Robert. She also recalled that the King rejoiced over the children's death.  _That was not Robert, but a stranger_ , Ned had told her. Back then she didn't understand the true depth of his pain, but now she knew why the butchered babes haunted him so much. Whenever he thought about them he probably imagined Jon Snow lying butchered beneath King Robert's feet.

Yet the betrayal still hurt. It hurt deeper than she ever believed possible. She understood why he didn't immediately entrust her with the secret. They hardly knew each other, but as the years passed there were numerous times he could have told her.

Would she have been angry with him?

Of course, but she would have understood if he explained it to her. With time she might have even come to accept the boy, despite the fear his presence would have certainly brought to her.

She would have tried at least, for the sake of her family and the boy, her nephew.

Now even this was taken from her.

It made it only harder for her to forgive Ned. She remembered his face of shock when he received the news. He was not a man to falter in the face of bad news, but in that moment his lord's face had slipped and he had looked like the young boy she married almost thirteen years ago in the Sept in Riverrun.

Then he went to work, penning one letter after another to his bannermen, inquiring if they saw a boy of thirteen. She doubted her husband slept more than a few hours each day.

Cat herself didn't know what to do. She felt utterly helpless as she watched her husband's suffering. Her children were even worse. Even Sansa had been pale as a sheet when she heard the news. Arya threw an angry tantrum and nearly joined Robb when he and Bran declared that they would go and search for their brother.

It were only Ned's firm words that stopped the children from their mad endeavor. Not that it helped much to remove the permanent state of sorrow that hung over the castle like a dark cloud. All the while she was still grappling with her own feelings.

So after two sleepless nights of agony she found herself in the crypts of Winterfell. She didn't know why she even came here, but she felt it was something she needed to do.

She had been here once or twice, but that didn't remove the uneasiness she felt in her stomach. Slowly she walked down the whirling steps. Left and right the Kings of Winter stared at her through the darkness while she was searching for the statue she wanted to see.

It was the only female statue to be found in the ancient crypt. Normally, only the Lords or Kings of Winterfell received a statue, but Lyanna Stark was an exception.

 _Like in life_ , Cat thought and felt resentment wash over her. She met Lyanna Stark only once when she was barely a girl herself. Back then she was still meant to marry Brandon Stark, but the Mad King murdered him and the war began. Cat didn't waste much of a thought on the girl when she met her. She was only Brandon's sister and a sweet girl of fourteen summers. Desperately she tried to recall her features, but all she remembered was a pale face, grey eyes and wild dark hair. It seems her memories were just as blurred as her feelings.

Lifting her torch to the statue she searched the stone face for familiar features, but what she found was the even-shaped face of a lady, all prim and proper. Yet Ned told her that his sister Lya never wanted to be a lady. Instead of doing her duty she ran off with a married man and caused a war that killed thousands. Cat knew that it were the Mad King's rash actions that really started the war, but it was difficult for her to see the girl and her lover as innocents.

_Family. Duty. Honour._

Those were the words her father tried instilling into his children from early age. Being the oldest she tried to live up to her father's expectations and fulfilled her duty when she married Ned. Why was Lyanna Stark unable to do the same?

She knew it was foolish to hold resentment against a dead girl, but how many people died because of her actions.

Truly the most innocent person in this whole ordeal was Jon Snow. He didn't ask to be born nor was he to be blamed for his parents' foolishness. He was just a boy she had resented, because whenever she looked in his face she saw the features of the faceless woman that brought him into the world. The woman her husband loved so much that he had his bastard grow up among his trueborn children. It was the only logical conclusion for her.

Now that very woman was looking back at her through empty sockets of painted stone.

Cat wanted to tell the girl a thousand things, but she knew that none of her words would change the truth. Jon Snow was gone and she didn't know how to mend the wound that his disappearance will leave upon her family.

And if he never returned….she didn't even dare to think about it.

Biting her lips she moved closer towards the statue. The bright torchlight made the shadows dance around her, but Lyanna Stark only remained a statue of carved stone; a statue wearing a garland of winter roses. It was the first time she noticed the flowers. Their smell was both sweet and strong. The smell also evoked a long lost memory.

She recalled Ned regularly picking flowers from the glass gardens and then the realization hit her like thunder.

 _Lyanna Stark was crowned with a garland of winter roses_ , she remembered and shivered.

 _Oh, Ned_ , she thought and tears rolled down her cheeks. In that moment all the resentment and anger disappeared from her heart and she was finally able to grasp a clear thought.

Would she have acted so much different from Ned if this was her own family?

Without wasting much more time she went to search for Ned. Like the last two days she found him sitting in his solar and penning letters.

She had barely stepped into the room when he turned around to look at her.

Clear surprise showed on his weary face.

Brushing her fear away she granted him a hesitant smile.

"You should rest. Have Maester Luwin help you with the letters…I can help too if you wish," she told him in a chiding tone.

A pained smile crossed over his lips.

"Even if I tried…I doubt I would be able to sleep," he admitted."This helps me to keep sane."

Cat sighed and pulled out the chair to sit down next to him. Her gaze wandered over the littered papers and Ned's ink-sprinkled fingers.

"When will Benjen arrive here?" she inquired and picked for one of the letters.

Ned put the pen away and ruffled his hair.

"A week…or maybe a few days more," Ned replied."He thinks Jon could have boarded a ship to Essos. Maybe he wants to find his remaining relatives….Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys."

The idea was sheer madness, but everything was possible. She doubted the boy acted with a clear mind when he ran way.

"Have you already written to Lord Manderly?" she inquired."The sailors in White Harbour might have seen him board a ship."

Ned nodded his head in understanding."I did, but if he boarded a ship…who knows where he is now. Essos is big and there is little hope that I will be able to find him. Gods, I was a fool to agree to Benjen's suggestion, but I hoped it would help him to make peace with the truth if he met the old Maester Aemon…," he said and buried his face between his hands.

Cat was unsure how much time she needed until she was able to forgive Ned, but she knew one thing. She will not allow the past to destroy their future.

…


	7. Jon

Jon felt relief wash over him as he spotted the outlines of the city of Hesh. The fortified walls were made of pale sandstone and the sunlight that shimmered off the surface gave the city an almost dream like appearance.

Brushing the sweat from his brow he let his gaze wander over the picturesque landscape surrounding the Lhazareen city. Far and wide rolling hills of pasture stretched endlessly and somewhere in the distant he saw the faint blue shimmer of a river.

Three moons ago he joined the Second Sons and in time he will fight his maiden battle against the Dothraki. Like all recruits he had to undergo a rigorous training program. Jon soon realized that his teacher's were very different from Ser Roderik. While the knight certainly thought them with a firm hand, none of the men here treated him with the same care. No, most of the men here were veterans who drank themselves bloody from the countless wars aged between the Free Cities.

They were mostly trained in swordsmanship, archery and riding. Every day he got up when he first light hit the horizon and often fell into a deep sleep the moment he fell into his bed.

Despite the hardship Jon didn't complain about the training as he didn't expect anything less from an ancient sellsword company like the Second Sons. He was also eager to prove himself, though the hot weather made it harder for him than he anticipated. The constant heat slowed him down and dulled his senses. By midday he was often exhausted and drenched in sweat.

I am better than that, he always told himself when his bruises pained him too much, but with time he recognized that his tolerance increased. It was a subtle change, but better than nothing. Still he often longed for a cool shade or a bucket of water to pour over his head.

Like all the other "younglings", as Mero likes to dub them, he was given the standard gear; light armour, a horse, a spear and a shield. Of course Jon had his sword, but that was really his only valuable possession left to him. Of course Jon had his sword, but that was really his only valuable possession left to him. Two years he will have to serve until he receives the gold that will hopefully bring him to his Aunt and Uncle. Part of it also covered the expenses for his horse and weapons.

Thus Jon spend a lot of time caring for his belongings. Especially, his horse needed plenty of attention. It was a young courser and not very well-trained. That made him even thankful for the daily drills with the horse that Kaho imposed on them. Of course, Jon always inclined more towards the sword, but he soon realized that the man knew the mind of the horses better than humans. In time even Jon's horse learned to obey his commands and was able to follow through with the different manoeuvres Kaho tried to instil into them. Most of those manoeuvres involved riding feigned retreats and changing the directions in mid-battle. Other times he even had them storm their horses towards groups of armed men to prepare the horses for the coming hardships of the coming battle.

However, what surprised Jon was how gentle this bear of a man was with the horses. While he drilled them mercilessly he often spend time with the animals and whispered to them in a language Jon didn't recognize at first. Now he knew that it was Dothraki.

It was one of the other "younglings" named Naati who informed him that Kaho once belonged to their fearsome enemy. Naati himself was a Lhazareen, but grew up in the Free Cities where his mother fled after the destruction of her town by a Dothraki horde. Like most Lhazareen he had copper skin and almond-shaped eyes, but unlike his peaceful kin he held an almost burning anger for the Dothraki. Naturally, he held no love for Kaho, but he hid it well in his presence.

While Jon didn't share the young man's hatred against the Dothraki, he often found himself in the company of Naati. Unlike the other men he didn't seem to distrust Jon or mind that he was from the Sunset Kingdoms. On the contrary, he held a sheer insatiable curiosity and often walled Jon with questions about his home. In return Naati liked talking about his own people.

"Hesh is a rich city," Naati stated as he led his horse closer to Jon. Once he had Jon's full attention he turned around and pointed at a sea of sheep grassing on the rolling hills in the distance."My mother was born near the town of Kosrak. When she was a little girl my grandfather took her to the great sheep market here in Hesh. It is the biggest one held among my people and accompanied by merry festivities. They also say Hesh has the most beautiful women. That is why the Dothraki like to carry them away," he added and Jon heard the resentment tainting his usual soft voice.

"It looks very peaceful," Jon admitted and straightened himself in his saddle. His arse hurt from the long ride and the piece of cloth he wrapped around his head was threatening to come loose."Though I still long for a little bit of shade."

An amused smile crossed over Naati's lips.

"I see you miss your frozen water…what did you call it again?"

Jon laughed recalling the strange looks Naati gave him when he tried explaining the concept of snow.

"Snow," he answered and pronounced it as clear as possible.

"Snow," Naati replied and scoffed."I still have a hard time imagining a world covered under a white cloth of... snow. Not that it matters. Soon the Golden Hordes will come again and shed the blood of my people. I assume it isn't much different in the Sunset Kingdoms. The stronger ones butcher the week ones, no matter where they live."

 _He is not wrong_ , Jon thought, but kept his thoughts to himself. He understood that Naati was a man harbouring deep anger inside him and Jon wished to have no part in stoking it further.  _A man driven by revenge is aimless_ , Jon recalled Lord Stark's words. He forgot the occasion, but the words were still burned into his mind.

"I heard a Khalasar can consist of several hundred thousand riders," he remarked."How many men rode in the one that destroyed your mother's home?" Jon asked and chose his words very carefully. He didn't wish to insult the young man next to him.

Naati winced at the mention of the Dothraki."Mother never liked speaking about it…at least fifty-thousand…it wasn't that big and the Dothraki are often accompanied by their women, children and slaves. Not all of them fight," he explained and Jon listened eagerly. "But they are fearsome warriors. They carry long braids and only cut them off when they are defeated in battle. So if you see a warrior with a long braid…run away," he added and Jon was not sure if he was serious or joking.

Jon nodded his head in acknowledgement of Naati's well-meaning words. Arriving at the city gates they were greeted by the so called Head Shepard of the city of Hesh. According to Naati they are elected every few years in a secret ceremony in which their priests asked the Great Shepard for guidance.

As their leader Mero was the one to be greeted by this Head Shepard who turned out to be a fat, shrivelled old man wearing a sheep-head to cover his hair lack of hair. In his hand he also carried a long wooden staff made of light white wood. A shepard's staff. How fitting, Jon though, but brushed those thoughts away when he saw the light shining in Naati's eyes. He seemed very enthralled by the whole proceedings playing out in front of him.

"What is he saying?" Jon whispered to Naati as they listened to the sing-song words the Head Shepard was giving to Mero.

"He is giving him the hundred blessings of the Great Shepard. He names Mero the protector of the people of Hesh. It is a great honour to receive such a blessing," Naati replied, but Jon doubted Mero understood the degree of respect that was shown to him.

Finished with his blessings several girls appeared who offered bowls filled with sheep-milk. To his credit Mero emptied the whole bowel without any hesitation.

Then each one of them was also offered a bowl. Naati explained to him that this was another sign of respect, for the sheep milk was his people's greatest treasure. Refusing such a gift was akin to spitting into another person's face. Not wishing to appear impolite he drank the fatty milk. Surprisingly, he didn't mind the taste. It was creamy and sour, but not that bad.

"It is good, isn't it?" Naati asked when he spotted the slight smile showing on Jon's lips.

"It is a bit sour," Jon admitted."I think it will take me some time to get used to the taste."

"The water in one's home always tastes the best," Naati replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Riding through the city they saw the inhabitants observing each of them with great interest. Passing by a group of giggling girls Jon saw them pointing at the blue head-covering wrapped around his head.

"Blue is associated with girls," Naati explained to him and pointed at the girls' bright bluish garb."Once a woman reaches adulthood she exchanges it to a yellow garb."

So they think of me as girl, he realized and felt like a fool. Embarrassed he pulled the covering from his head and let his hand ruffle through his hair. It was nearly back to it's old length and he had the sudden urge to cut it off. Long hair was not a very pleasant attribute in the constant heat.

So he hesitatingly asked Naati to trim his hair. Last time he did it himself and his hair looked like a lumpy head. Obviously not minding Jon's request he went to work and grinned when he was finished.

"Are you planning to go to the girls?" he asked his voice tinged with amusement."The ones that laughed at you I mean. They called you pretty," he added and when Jon started to flush his laughter intensified.

After he regained his composure Naati gave him a knowing look."I see you never had a girl, but I am sure one of them would gladly keep you company."

His remark's made Jon slightly uncomfortable. While he was not really a bastard, he still knew how it felt to grow up as one. Though he liked girls just as much as any other boy his age, he still had no intention of fathering a bastard.

Naati seemed to sense his discomfort and wrinkled his brow.

"You look like a sheep bit you in the balls. Is that another rule from the Sunset Kingdoms," the young man remarked and ruffled through his short dark hair."Are young man not allowed to have girls?"

His innocent question made Jon break out in laughter."No, not at all…but you see…in my home they call me a bastard."

Naati tried to repeat the word Jon used."Ba…star…d?" he asked in an unsure tone."What does that mean?"

Jon sighed."It means my mother and father were not married. My father had another wife and she disliked me for living in her house. It is seen as dishonourable for a man to father a child on a woman who is not his wife."

This obviously confused Naati."That is strange…if you are his son and she is his wife she should consider you as part of the flock even if you are not her blood. Here people often have more than one wife and they call each other sisters and their children are considered part of the whole family no matter who birthed them. My mother was the daughter of a third wife, but she was raised by his first wife because her mother died in the birthing bed."

Jon quite liked the idea, but doubted Lady Stark or any other Lady in the Seven Kingdoms would agree with the customs of the Lhazareen.

…


	8. Benjen

Benjen returned to Winterfell with a feeling of dread. For days he tried to find his wayward nephew, but in the end he was unsuccessful. Of course, he immediately wrote to his brother and informed him about the incident, but he doubted it was much of a consolation.

"Uncle Benjen!" a bright youthful voice exclaimed and a moment later his little niece Arya hung on his waist."You are back!"

A pained smile crossed over his lips. His brother's youngest daughter had Lya's dark mob of hair and the same pale grey eyes. It was like looking at a ghost and only intensified his feeling of guilt.

"It is good to see you again, Arya," he replied and ruffled through her messy curls.

Seeing her hopeful look he grew very tense.

"Did you find Jon?"

Benjen sighed and knelt down so he was able to speak face to face with his niece.

"Sadly, not," he replied in an apologetic tone."But I am sure he will come back."

The words were meant to soothe his niece, but Benjen felt like a liar. While it was certainly not out of the question, he doubted that Jon will return to them in the near future.

Arya's grey eyes narrowed and her face paled visibly.

"But why would Jon go away in the first place?" she asked with an anxious tone. Slowly Benjen led his horse to the stables while Arya followed along to pepper him with further remarks."I asked father, mother, Ser Roderik and Maester Luwin, but all of them refuse to tell me anything. Even when Robb went to speak to father he sent him on his way without answering any of his questions. I hoped at least you would be able to tell me why Jon would go away and leave me."

Benjen kept his answer vague.

"Sadly, I can't tell you why Jon left, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to find him."

Arya flashed him an unbelieving look as they entered the stables. There they where greeted by Hullen.

"It is good to see you again, Lord Benjen. Though I wished it were more pleasant circumstances."

Benjen saw the disappointment showing on the man's face. He clearly hoped for better news.

Moments like this made Benjen wish he never suggested the travel to the Wall. In his naivety Benjen hoped meeting his grand-uncle would soothe his nephew's pain, but contrary to his belief it only led to his disappearance.

Naturally, the first thing he did was to speak to old Maester Aemon. Even now Benjen clearly remembered the old man's face of horror when he informed him about Jon's disappearance. Shivering and close to tears the old man recounted his conversation with the boy, but none of that gave Benjen any clear knowledge about Jon's whereabouts.

Of course, both he and the Measter had their suspicions. Benjen was sure the boy knew about his relatives lost beyond the Narrow Sea. They were his only living relatives beside his family here in the North. Knowing about Jon's discord with Lady Stark it was not out of the question that he went to search for them.

Whatever the answer was, Benjen did not look forward to seeing his brother.

"My lord…I apologize if my words upset you," Hullen's rough voice called him back to the present.

"Your words did not upset me at all. I was just lost in thoughts," he apologized and granted the man a slight smile."I assume my brother is in a similar state of mind."

"Father is very impatient to see you," Arya added and pulled at his arm."We should go."

"Of course," Benjen replied and followed after the girl.

Inside Benjen was greeted by his brother's wife.

Cat looked tired, but still managed a smile before kissing his cheeks.

"It is good to have you here," she remarked and her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Arya next to Benjen."What are you doing with your Uncle? Did you sneak out of your lessons again?"

"I didn't sneak out of my lessons at all. Maester Luwin fell asleep and I easily finished the calculations. I just didn't wish to disturb his peaceful slumber," she explained innocently.

Cat sighed.

"I see, but it is no surprise that Maester Luwin is tired. Day and night he spends with Ned penning letters," she replied and leaned down to touch Arya's shoulder.

"Please, be so kind and wake the poor man. I am sure he will appreciate it."

"I want to stay and hear what father has to say…," the girl protested, but her mother's firm look left no room for further questions.

"Now is not the time for that, Arya. Your father wants to speak alone with your Uncle."

Pouting and filled with disappointment Arya left them, though Benjen was sure she will come back later to pepper him with questions.

"Forgive her," Cat apologized and patted his arm."Arya is very rattled by the boy's disappearance."

_Boy._  That is what Cat always called him. Never once did he hear her refer to him as Jon. The thought filled him both with anger and guilt. He certainly didn't approve of the coldness she used to show the boy, but it was not like he was blameless. The fact that he and Ned fooled her over all those years made them at least partly responsible for the boy's suffering.  _Another one of my failings, Lya._

Brushing those thoughts away he shifted his attention back to Cat."It is only natural that the children worry for their brother," he remarked and followed her along the familiar halls of his childhood.

"Cousin you mean," she added after a long moment of silence. Benjen felt both surprised and relieved. So you finally found the courage to tell her, brother.

Benjen stopped abruptly and nodded his head in affirmation.

"Indeed," he replied and breathed deeply before continuing."I know it is little consolation for you, but I am sorry for lying. My brother made me promise to keep the secret."

A painful expression rolled over her face and she folded her hands in front of her."It is understandable. He is your blood and the boy's mother was both your sister. While I will need more time to come to terms with all of this, know that I don't fault you for giving a promise to your brother."

Benjen felt no relief.

"I am thankful for your understanding," he replied and went to face his brother.

Like Cat told him he found him sitting next to a heap of letters. His hair was a mess and he was in dire need of a shave. His brother looked worse than he anticipated, but it was no surprise. Ned spent years protecting the boy and now he was gone.

He didn't even hear Benjen's steps on the floor. His brother was utterly absorbed by the piece of paper before him.

"Ned!" Cat called out to him."Benjen is here."

Her words broke the spell and his brother turned around.

Seeing the sorrow and pain showing on Ned's face he wanted nothing more than to flee out of the room. Again he felt like the little boy who helped Lya to see her sweetheart. Of course, he didn't foresee that his sweet sister would never return. To soothe his guilt he joined the Watch, but that was a long time ago.

"I am sorry…I," he stuttered and his throat felt utterly dry."What can I say?"

Ned didn't speak. Instead he turned to Cat. She gave him a knowing look and closed the door behind her.

Then his brother turned his attention back to him. His grey eyes were unyielding and cold as ice.

"Nothing," Ned replied coldly."None of your words will bring our sister's boy back to us. I should have never listened to you. I should have forbidden it...," he continued, but his voice faltered along the way.

Benjen swallowed hard and moved towards his brother.

"Nonsense," Benjen protested."It was impossible to foresee this and I don't think it will help us to throw around the blame. Rather we need to find a way to deal with the situation. I am sure you are going insane with worry, but I also know Jon. He is young, but a very intelligent boy, not to mention he knows to defend himself. I am sure he is alive and will come back to us."

Ned gave him the same unbelieving look as young Arya before him."I wrote to Lord Manderly like you suggested, but none of his men were able to find a sign of Jon. Maybe you are wrong and he didn't go to Essos…but…then where did he go...," his brother continued to ramble.

"This means nothing," Benjen replied."If the boy boarded a ship to Essos we won't know for sure until the ships return to White Harbour. This will take moons."

Ned ruffled his hair and fell back into his chair."I prey to the gods that you are right."

Benjen was not sure if he was right, but he certainly hoped so.

Sighing deeply he leaned down and touched his brother's shoulder.

"I spoke to Maester Aemon. The poor men grew sick from the shock and had to keep to bed. I hope he is better now, but he agreed with me. He thinks it is very likely that the boy went to find his relatives."

"I don't doubt your words, but you can't fault me for hoping otherwise," Ned replied in a heavy voice."If he is in Essos I can't do anything but wait until I have more information. Gods, I don't even want to know what happens if the the boy finds his aunt or uncle. Imagine Robert finds out about it…I just can't understand why he did something foolish like this," Ned poured out all his fear and frustration.

"I don't think Jon was thinking clearly. All those years he felt guilty about being your bastard and hearing the truth probably intensified this feeling. I am sure it was not done out of cruelty, but to ease your burden. He probably thought he is doing you a favour. I cannot think of any other reason," Benjen offered as a possible explanation.

Ned exhaled a puff of air and covered his face.

"I don't know what to do," Ned replied helplessly.

Benjen felt just as helpless."I know."

...


	9. Jon

The first weeks they spent most of their time on scouting missions. For days they explored the surrounding areas and tried to memorize the hills and valleys littering the terrain. The lands of the Lhazareen were rich in grassland, but once they moved slightly north they even found forests.

To assure the inhabitants of these lands of their allegiance they carried the banner of the city of Hesh; a black sheep with bloody splatters on the background.

With them rode a handful of other men and their leader, a Braavosi by the name of Lyssan. There was no doubt about his skill, but Jon realized soon that the man regarded him and Naati more of a burden than help. He either ignored them or treated them like children. At the beginning Jon tried to ask him questions, but usually he shrugged his shoulders and went back nipping on those plants that painted his tongue black.

Today was their second day of scouting and also the day they finally returned to the protective walls of city. Jon was happy about it as he liked the city and its people. They were pleasant to foreigners, though Jon still had a hard time talking to them. Naati tried teaching him a few words, but Jon feared butchering his language. Maybe it was only a matter of time as even his Bastard Valyrian was steadily improving.

Upon their return they immediately went to see Mero. Like so often these days they found him in company of Kaho. It did not surprise Jon that Mero employed the Dothraki to advice him. Who better to fight against the Dothraki than a man who once lived among them?

Spotting their approach Mero turned on his seat and flashed Lyssan an impatient look.

"Did you find any Dothraki?" he asked and sipped from his wine.

"No Dothraki, only grass, sheep and the hot sun as far as the eye can see, but northeast from here we found a valley covered with thick forests. Through said valley runs a small river that the local shepards called the Golden Spring," their Braavosi leader Lyssan replied proudly. It was no surprise, as Kaho intentionally tasked them with finding favourable terrain like hill land or forests.

Yet it was not the Braavosi who found the Golden Spring. It was Naati who discovered it after speaking to several of the local shepards. If anyone deserved praise it was the eager Lhazareen.

"Forgive my question, Commander Mero," Jon interrupted politely."Did the other scouts find a sign of the Dothraki?"

Mero flashed him an annoyed look, but the Dothraki Kaho didn't think himself above to answer Jon's question.

"Yes, riders of ours spotted Dothraki northeast of Kosrak, beyond one of the arms of the Skahazadhan river. They will probably avoid the city due to its fortified walls, but the towns around it will be ripe for plundering," the Dothraki explained. He spoke Valyrian with a strange growl that added a hard tone to his pronunciation, but he always spoke quite sophisticated. Jon was sure that he has lived for a long time in the Free Cities.

Jon bowed his head in acknowledgment of the answer and the Dothraki shifted his attention back to Lyssan and Mero."I remember the place you mentioned. I saw it once when I was a young boy. A small army can easily hide there," he told Mero who continued sipping from his wine.

"And how many men are you planning to hide there?" Mero asked and looked rather skeptical."And more importantly which of our men are you intending to choose for this task?"

"I am thinking of placing our heavy cavalry and the sheepmen from Lhazosh in said valley. Most of these sheepmen are untrained footmen and archers. They would flee like sheep if they had to face Dothraki riders on an open field, but hidden in the forests even the sheepmen may yet become lions," the Dothraki explained in his usual serious tone.

Mero continued to frown and tapped his fingers on the table."So a thousand men heavy cavalry and four thousand sheepmen, eh?" he asked and laughed."You put too much trust in these fools."

Kaho's face was unreadable and he didn't share Mero's amusement."Fools are those who underestimate their enemy," the Dothraki replied coolly."My former brothers are fearsome to be sure, but they will not expect the sheepmen to turn on them. My people view them as weak, but even a weak dog will bite if you kick him too often. The sheepmen are not different."

Jon had listened eagerly to the men's exchange. All the drills and the scouting made all the more sense knowing what he just heard.

"So you are planning to draw them out?" it escaped Jon."To the valley I mean."

Mero flashed him an irritated look. Jon realized that it would have been better to keep his thoughts to himself.

"I don't think that is any of your concern, boy," Mero snapped."You will hear about our plans at the same time soon enough. We have no special treatments here."

Jon felt a little embarrassed by the rebuke and bowed his head respectfully."Of course."

Grabbing him by the arm Naati pulled him along.

"I don't like that they refer to my people as sheepmen. I don't trust either of them," Naati ranted angrily."My mother used to say that there are two kinds of people you can't ever trust: Braavosi and Dothraki."

"I think you misjudge Kaho. He seems sincere to me. In regards to Mero I agree, but he is a sellsword. When he fights he thinks of the gold and not of the people. Kaho is just another tool to achieve his goal."

Naati gave him an unbelieving look."So you like the Dothraki? You trust him?"

Jon stopped and nodded hesitatingly."I don't know if I trust him or even like him, but his plan is sound. The Dothraki horde outnumbers us. An ambush is the logical way to go."

Naati sighed and shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture."I hope for all our sakes' that you are right."

True to his word Mero gathered them on the next day to present his grand plan, though Jon was sure that most it was actually the Kaho's work.

"A day ago scouts spotted a Dothraki horde northeast of Kosrak. According to the reports it is a fairly small horde of maybe twenty-thousand riders. To face this threat we will split our troops into two hosts. The largest host consisting of the sheepmen foot soldiers and archers will be joined by our heavy cavalry. Northeast from here lays a small valley with thick forests that will hide us from the enemy's eyes," Mero explained in a clear and loud voice before turning to look over to Kaho."The second and smaller host consisting of light cavalry will be led by our brother Kaho," he added and gave the mighty Dothraki a sharp nod.

Kaho jerked his head in acknowledgment and stood to speak.

"Only our best riders will come with me. Not more than eight-hundred and I will personally call for them tomorrow. If you are afraid then I suggest running back to your mother's tits. I have no need for cowards who rout at the first sign of battle," the Dothraki declared and let his dark eyes sweep over the men.

"But those who are brave enough to ride with me I want to tell this: My former brothers are fearsome indeed, but they think little of the sheepmen and are too proud to forsake a battle. If we lure them they will follow. I have no doubt about that," he added before settling back into his seat.

Then a strange silence settled everybody before they went back to prepare for the coming hardships. Like the other men Jon and Naati spent the rest of the evening sharpening their weapons and caring for their horses.

Jon liked the work as it calmed him. Naati on the other hand appeared almost excited about the coming battle.

"I don't like the Dothraki, but I hope he takes me with him," he told Jon and grinned."I want to know how it feels how to plunge my spear into a Dothraki screamer."

Jon nodded his head in acknowledgement of the other man's words."You are a good rider. I am sure your wish will be granted."

"Your words in the Great Shepard's ears, brother Daeron," Naati replied his grin widened."You are an better rider than me. I am sure he will also take you with him."

Jon was not sure if he agreed, but he had other concerns like surviving the next battle.

"Why the sour look?" Naati asked and flashed Jon a curious look."Isn't that why you are here? To win glory?"

"I am here, because I need coin. Nothing more," Jon replied matter-of-factly and looked up to the young Lhazareen.

"Why did you join?"

A pained smile crossed over the young man's lips."To take revenge."

…

The sunlight painted the hills and grasslands around them into a soft golden shimmer. The blue sky stretched endlessly like the sea. It was like the scenery from a dream, but Jon knew thirty-thousand Dothraki riders were lurking beyond this peaceful landscape.

"A rider is coming!" one of their men shouted shielding his face against the bright sun.

"Is he one of ours?" Kaho asked impatiently and his hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

Jon tensed as he tried to make out the rider in question. A few days ago they left Hesh to find the Dothraki horde. As if prophesied by Naati he had been chosen while the young Lhazareen had to remain with Mero's host. Truly, Jon was surprised, but when he saw several of the other "younglings" among the riders he realized that he wasn't all that special. The Dothraki Kaho trained them for this from the very beginning. All the drills with the horses were meant to prepare them for this moment.

"He is one of us! He is one of us!" the men replied at last and Jon saw the relief wash over the other men.

Kaho seemed indifferent and moved his horse towards the rider.

The man in question was sweaty, but otherwise unharmed.

"Did you find them?" was all the Dothraki asked.

The man nodded in an anxious manner and waved his hand towards the east."Northeast…we found them."

The Dothraki nodded his head in acknowledgment and spurred is horse forward."Northeast it is!"

Jon believed himself prepared, but when he heard the ear-deafening cries and the earth shaken by the thunder of horse-hooves, he shuddered.

In that moment the wide blue sky disappeared and the world became focused on the waves of screamers storming towards them in a cloud of dust. With their spears and shield in front of them they charged forward with an equal pace as their enemy.

Soon even the pounding of his heart was dulled by the rising cries of the enemy in front of them. A hundred times they trained this, but in that moment Jon muttered a prayer to the old gods.

Then the cries were drowned out by the hissing of arrows that came down on them were partly caught by their shields. Somewhere to his left Jon heard the cries of horses and men alike, but he didn't incline his head to look.

_Forward!_

Gripping his spear tightly he plunged it into the first enemy. With a piercing scream of pain the spear gutted a young screamer and threw him from his horse.

Yet there was no time to think about what happened as another rider came stormed towards him. Jon discarded his spear and pulled his sword. Then he met the screamer's blow.

The metal sang as they slashed at each other, but the common metal of the Dothraki blade was nothing against sharpened Valyrian steel. Soon the curved sword dented like metal under a smith's hammer.

The Dothraki's eyes widened for the blink of a moment as Jon buried his blade in his shoulder. The sword carved the man up as if he was made of butter. Truly, the sharpness of the blade was both exhilarating and frightening.

Quickly the next enemy came before him, but Jon felled his horse with a slight blow to the animal's neck. Jon didn't know why, but in that moment all his earlier hesitation and fear was washed away.

All he knew was the movement of his horse beneath his feet and the song of blood. It was as if the whole world, the past and the present had disappeared. If someone asked him about his name he doubted he would be able to answer.

It was only Kaho's cry for retreat that called him back from his crimson dreams.

_Backwards!_

Catching for breath he wheeled his horse around and followed the other men. The retreat was pure disorder and fast-paced, but this was intentional.

And like Kaho promised to Mero, the Dothraki followed after them like war dogs hunting after their bloodied prey.

That they rode under the flag of sheepmen seemed to increase their eagerness.

Time seemed to disappear as he spurred his horse. Slowly the world around him was filled with dust and smoke. Jon didn't even feel the heat. The wind and the roaring of the Dothraki screamers was the only thing on his mind.

_Forward!_

Then slowly the landscape changed. The familiar hills of their never-ending scouting missions appeared.

Then Jon spotted the valley with it's lush trees and cool spring shining in the sunlight.

_Finally_ , Jon thought and cocked his head to search for Kaho. Luckily, the Dothraki was easily discernible in the pale velvet cloak he liked to wear.

In a mad rush they swept down the valley towards the thick forest lining both side of the valley.

Forward and forward they spurred their horses.

Then Jon saw them. Their swords and amour glimmered in the sunlight, ready to strike, after the first volleys of arrows hit the enemy.

It slowed the horde down, but didn't stop them. It was like Kaho told them. His brothers neither feared their arrows or death.

Even the heavily-armour cavalry that came down on them with a rush of steel didn't frighten the Dothraki. Like madman they clashed with the armoured knights and those that made it through the lines rode straight at the pikes that were stuck into the ground to keep them away from their archers.

Soon the battle erupted into a madness of slaughter, but calm like a river Kaho rallied them together and made them charge at the left flank that was threatening to fall apart under the pressing onslaught of the Dothraki.

Again and again they tried to break free. Back and forth it went. The battle seemed to last forever.

When it was finally over the world appeared to Jon like a blurred illusion. His arm hurt and his throat felt dry. Sweat covered every pore of his skin and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in the cool water.

Yet the valley no longer looked like the idyllic place it once was. As far as his eyes reach he saw the ground peppered with corpses of both men and horses.

Even the small spring was overflowing with blood.

Jon didn't care and kneeled down to sprinkle water over his hair. It calmed him and finally he was able to catch a clear thought.

Until now he had been blind and deaf for the world.

Adjusting to the sounds and feelings washing over him he let his gaze wander back to the valley of death.

In silence he sat and watched as the Lhazareen butchered the last living Dothraki. Now even these peaceful people took on a brutish streak.

Here and there he saw a few of them skewer a half-death man to death. Again and again they drove their spears home, savouring the cries of their known enemy.

Jon was not sure if he should feel happy for them, but Kaho was right.

Today the sheep turned into lions.

…


	10. Arya

Arya was unhappy.

Today her Lord father rode out to execute a deserter from the Night's Watch. As usual only the boys were allowed to join him. It was no surprise, but this time even Bran rode with them. It was enough to rouse her envy as Bran was even two years younger than her. Not to mention she had to remain here with Sansa to practice stitching.

As always Sansa was absorbed by her chatter with Jeyne Poole and little Beth Cassel. Arya had to contend herself with Septa Mordane. If the woman was more of a pleasant company she wouldn't mind so much, but the majority of their conversations concerned Arya's crooked stitches. The whole work was not only boring, but also utterly useless. Arya doubted anyone would ever want to wear a handkerchief embroidered by her hand.

The morning passed slowly and unsurprisingly Arya's work received a critical judgment from the Septa."That will not do…That will not do at all!" the Septa chided while Arya wanted nothing more than to throw the stupid handkerchief at the giggling Jeyne Poole."Tomorrow you will have to try again. Maybe Sansa will be able to aide you."

Normally, Arya would have given a snapping remark, but today she didn't care. Instead she obediently nodded her head and made her way to the large window that allowed a good view over the courtyard.

It was the best place to keep watch out for her Lord father's return.

While waiting she watched the coming and going. She saw Mikken carrying material to his forge, the guards laughing over a stupid joke and a group of children running wild. Arya occasionally played with them, but today she was in no mood to join in. Her sadness came so suddenly, but it started in the morning when she was allowed to take part in her brothers' lessons with the bow. It really surprised her when both her Lord father and mother gave their approval. For the last two years she begged to train with the bow, but her Lord father didn't agree out of respect for her Lady mother's , both her mother and father have changed much since Jon's disappearance. Her father was often sad and looked lost in thoughts. When he was busy playing the Lord it was hard to see, but Arya always recognized it.

In such moments she wanted to do nothing more than to hug him, but she also knew that none of her actions will be able to take away her father's sadness. At first she didn't believe it and was convinced that her Uncle Benjen told a lie. The idea that Jon could have left her out of his free will appeared almost impossible to her. Of all his siblings he always understood her the best and now he was gone. Even her Lady mother was different. Before Jon's disappearance she used to be very strict with Arya if she didn't behave like a lady, but these days she was often more than lenient. She didn't punish her when she tried to sneak out of her lessons and stopped forcing her into those scratchy dresses Sansa liked to wear so much. The arrow practice was just another sign of her mother's change.

Sadly, none of this brought her brother back to her. That it was Jon who first thought her how to use a bow dimmed her mood only more. She wasn't even able to rejoice over the fact that she bested Bran when Jon wasn't here to talk about her success.

"Are you still sitting here?" Sansa's soft voice roused her out of her whirling thoughts. "Are you not hungry?"

Arya leaned on her arms and angled her head to look at her sister.

"Oh, I completely forgot about time," she replied and felt a little embarrassed." Was mother angry with me?" she asked and hoped otherwise.

"Mother noticed your absence, but I don't think she is angry. Rickon caught a light fever and she is entertaining him with a story while Maester Luwin is taking care of him. You know how fussy he can be. I also think she is more upset with father for taking Bran to see the executions."

Arya moved aside so Sansa was able to sit down next to her.

"It is way beyond midday. I wonder what what keeps them so long.I don't think it usually takes that long to get back here," Arya added and Sansa nodded her head in agreement.

"Maybe there was heavy snowfall," Sansa offered as a possible explanation and patted her shoulder."I am sure they will soon return to us, though I hope Theon will refrain from giving us the details during dinner."

"I don't think Theon will care about your feelings," Arya replied and flashed Sansa a cheeky smile."But if you want I can throw my bread at him. That works every time."

"You have my full support," her sister replied and stifled a smile. Even Sansa was changed. While she was still annoying Arya realized recently that her older sister was trying to build a better relationship with her. Last time she even scolded Jeyne Poole when she dared to call her Arya Horsface. Arya also wondered if she was doing this, to soothe her regret.

 _Maybe being kind to me is her way of making it up to Jon_ , she thought and granted her sister a supportive smile."It would be my pleasure."

Sansa jerked her head and then her blue eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, it seems they are back!" Sansa stated and rose from her seat before hitching up her dress along the way. Arya sprinted after her and was barely able to catch up with her sister. It was no surprise as Sansa was tall and lean like their lady mother while Arya was short and agile like a little squirrel.

Her face burned from the cold a she stepped outside into the icy air, but all this was forgotten when she spotted her brothers and Theon carrying something in their arms.

"Arya! Sansa!" Bran exclaimed loudly, his pale face flushed from the cold air."Robb found direwolf pups. Five of them, one for each of us," he added and showed her the small bundle of fur he cradled in his arms.

Arya's pulse sped up and she felt excitement wash over her."Where did you find them? And are you sure they are direwolves?" she asked and a hundred of further questions lingered on her tongue, but then Robb joined them and showed them two other pups. Both of them were grey-furred and had golden eyes.

"Those are the female ones, one for each of you," Robb remarked and smiled. It was an honest smile and so seldom seen these days.

"Give her to me," she replied and stretched out her arms.

"Here," Robb said and lifted one of the pups into her arms while Sansa picked the other."But careful, those are direwolf pups."

Arya didn't care and let her hands wander through the soft grey fur of her pup. Slowly the pup opened its eyes and Arya's heart swelled with love.

 _You are mine_ , she thought and followed her siblings inside.  _You are all mine._

Inside they were greeted by their lady mother who wrinkled brows when she saw what they were carrying in their arms.

"By the gods…are those wolf pups?" she asked as Bran proudly presented his pup to their Lady mother.

"Aye, the children found the pup's dead mother. Robb and Bran were insistent to bring them here," their Lord Father added in a serious tone. It was the face of the Lord of Winterfell.

Fearfully, Arya looked over to her lady mother and awaited her impending reaction.

She saw the disapproval showing on her lady mother's face and feared the worst, but then her expression softened.

"Well, now that they are here I don't think I have the heart to send them away," she replied and ruffled through Bran's hair."But if they are to remain here you will have to take care of them. They will be all your responsibility," she added and looked at each of her children."Understood?"

The reply was an unquestionable "yes" and so they went to work. Robb organized them milk to feed the pups while Arya and Bran started to build a sleeping place made of hay. All her gloomy thoughts were washed away in that brief moment of happy relief.

"What are you going to name yours?" Bran asked after a while as he continued dipping a piece of cloth into the bowl of milk Robb organized for them.

The answer to that question was not difficult."Nymeria…like the Princess of the Rhoynar."

"And what are you going to name yours?" she asked Bran in return.

"Summer," Bran replied proudly before looking over to Sansa and Robb.

Sansa was carefully brushing her pup's fur while Robb was occupied with feeding Rickon's pup. Due to his youth their little brother was unable to care for it. Robb's own pup was already sleeping and sated from the milk he received earlier.

"Robb!" Bran called out."What did you name yours?"

Robb lifted his head and ruffled through his hair."I was thinking about naming him Greywind."

"What about Rickon's pup?" Sansa threw in."What name did he choose?"

"He calls the little one Shaggydog…or Shaggy…quite a fitting name given his shaggy fur," Robb replied and continued to feed their brother's pup.

Their industrious work was only interrupted by their Lady mother who called them for dinner.

Arya was not happy to leave Nymeria, but she hardly ate anything today. She completely forgot about it with all the sudden excitement surrounding their new family members.

Wanting nothing more than to return as quickly as possible she slurred down her food, but sadly they weren't dismissed yet.

"Before you go, your lord father needs to make an important announcement," their mother insisted.

All eyes in the room turned to their Lord Father who paled visibly under the sudden attention.

"What is it, father? Is it about Jon?" Robb asked and Arya heard the fear in his voice.

Trembling she gripped for the table.

"No, not about Jon," their lord father replied."The King…King Robert will be coming here to Winterfell in company of his family and court."

"But why would the King come here?" Robb asked skeptically.

"Jon Arryn…died," came their Lord father's prompt reply. His tone was grave and Arya saw the sorrow shining in his eyes.

Robb's face changed to a similar expression, though he looked more pensive than sad.

"Oh, that is wonderful!" Sansa added with a beaming smile and clapped her hands together.

Bran shared her joy."I am finally going to see the knights of the Kingsguard."

Arya was unsure what to think about the King's visit. She also wanted to see the Kingsguard, but then she thought of Robb's pensive look.

_Why is Robb so worried?_


	11. Jon

They remained in the valley to bury the death and to find rest. Despite his exhaustion Jon was unable to sleep. He expected to feel relieved, but he only felt numb.

Later Naati joined him to recount his accomplishments in battle, but contrary to Jon the young Lhazareen appeared almost exhilarated by his experience. He also asked Jon about his own experiences, most of it was nothing more than a blurred memory.

"Did you know that the Dothraki take the heads of their enemies?" Naati asked and snapped Jon out of his state of sullen silence.

Jon also wondered why he cared what the Dothraki horselords did with their enemies' heads.

"What do they do with them?"

"They keep them," Naati explained and chuckled."To prove prove their prowess in battle."

The idea of keeping the head of enemies as a keepsake made Jon wince.

"What is pleasant about keeping rotting heads?" he asked the young man facing him over the campfire."Where I come from people are either hanged or get their heads cut off and if they die in battle we bury them properly."

"The Sunset Kingdoms are different," Naati protested and rolled his eyes."But I agree. It is rather unpractical, but I wish I could take one of those heads home to show them to my mother."

Jon was startled by his idea. Why would his mother take comfort from looking at a cut-off Dothraki head?"

"You seem to disagree," Naati added and looked disappointed by his lack of agreement."If you knew what the Dothraki did to my mother you would understand."

Jon was hesitant, but somehow he sensed that Naati wanted him to ask for further details."What did they do?"

"They raped her…three of them…over and over again. She barely escaped her captors and fled to Volantis where I was born. That is what I meant when I said I want to take revenge," Naati explained and rose back to his feet.

Jon was shocked and nodded his head in silence.

What was there more to say?

No word from his lips would make it possible to banish away the pain of the young Lhazareen, though Jon doubted his revenge will ever bring him peace.

Yet when he recalled his proud smile Jon had his doubts.  _Maybe it is me who is wrong?_

"The Lhazareen boy will serve his people well," a familiar rough voice added after Naati had left.

It was Kaho the Dothraki and Jon was stunned into silence by his sudden appearance.

"Last time we spoke you were still able to speak," the Dothraki remarked and seemed amused."Did the battle steal your voice?"

"Of course not," Jon replied embarrassedly."I was just surprised."

"I can see that," the Dothraki replied and settled down.

Jon was unsure how to behave, but tried to be polite.

"What did you mean with your remark about Naati?" he asked in an attempt to find a topic to talk about.

"The Lhazareen cares about his people's plight. I am sure one day he will return here and continue the fight long after we left."

The words of the Dothraki rang true. They won a battle and might even win another in the near future, but Jon doubted it will be enough to bring peace to the Lhazareen. Once they served their time here they will return back to Volantis and then the people will be on their own again.

"Do you think your people will take revenge will come back to revenge on the Lhazareen?" Jon asked, though he already knew the answer.

The Dothraki jerked his head."Nothing is sure. The riders we killed belonged to Khal Ogo. I recall their face painting. I met him once when I was a young boy and when was still a  _khalakka_. He is a fierce fighter, but his father didn't leave him a large  _khalasar_ to command. It is one of the reasons he comes here. The sheepmen are easy prey, but this time it was him who was humiliated. Many of those who survived this battle will cut off their braids and this will weaken his position further. It would not surprise me if one of the other Khals or one of his own men will challenge him to take his position."

"Challenge?" Jon asked and tried to hide his obvious curiosity."So if you want to take the position of a Khal all you have to do is to fight him?"

"Does that surprise you?" the Dothraki asked in a surprised tone."Is it so different in the Sunset Kingdoms? Do men not kill each other for power?"

"You are quite right. The high lords wage their ways for power, but it is not as easy as you think. Usually you need the right kind of blood to take power. Like Khal Ogo who once was his father's … _khalakka_ …I assume you mean his heir."

The Dothraki wrinkled his brow in confusion."Blood is good, but every man among the Dothraki may take power no matter who birthed him. My people respect the birthright of a  _khalakka_ , but if he proves weak they will kill him just the same."

Hearing the Dothraki's words Jon had to think about his blood father and he man that killed him. In the eyes of a Dothraki it would have mattered little that his father was the rightful heir, but only the fact that he lost his battle against Robert Baratheon. It was both a fascinating and frightening idea to only respect strength without caring about blood.

"You are so silent," Kaho remarked in an almost gentle tone."Do the actions of my people scare you?"

"They don't scare me," Jon replied and chuckled."As I said…my people are not much different. They also kill each other for power."

Kaho grinned and his eyes darted to Jon's sword.

"Do all men in the Sunset Kingdoms possess a sword like yours?" he asked and Jon spotted the curiosity shining in his eyes."What a strange material is it made of?"

Jon was hesitant, but the man in front of him was always courteous to him.

Carefully he unsheathed the blade and handed it to the Dothraki who touched the blade almost with a lover's touch.

"Sharp!" Kaho exclaimed and liked like a little boy when his finger graced over the tip of the blade."Very sharp!"

"In the Sunset Kingdoms we call it Valyrian Steel," he explained."My Uncle owns a similar sword, but nearly as big as a man."

Kaho seemed awed by his words.

"Then your Uncle has to be a very powerful man," he replied and his eyes wandered slowly over the rippled pattern of the metal."How can this material be made?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders."Nobody knows the answer. Only the Valyrians knew how to forge this steel, though I once read that the swords were apparently forged with dragon fire and blood magic."

"Dragons? Blood magic?" Kaho asked and Jon saw a glimpse of fear apparent in the man's face.

"Maybe, but nobody knows for sure," Jon admitted."This sword was given to me by my grand-uncle. It once belonged to several people who shared my blood and he gave it to me because I am one of his last blood."

"That explains your sadness," Kaho remarked and handed him the black back."How did your blood die?"

Jon had no intention to give him the whole truth, but for some odd reason he felt compelled to tell him at least a little.

"My father took the woman of another man and this started a war. In the end my father was slain by this man's hands and he butchered nearly all of my father's family…my father's first wife…and both my half-siblings. You see…my mother was only his second wife and the only reason I wasn't butchered in my crib was because nobody knew about my existence. My mother died in childbirth and I grew up in my Uncle's home who protected me by naming me his son. His wife always disliked my presence, but that was not the reason I left. I found out the truth and I left because the man who killed my father is still alive and would put my Uncle's family to the sword if he ever found out the truth. I also know that two of my relatives are here in Essos. Once I have enough money and served my years I want to seek them out. This sword here is also part of their legacy."

Kaho eyed Jon closely and rubbed his beard. Then he smiled.

"Then we are both exiles, eh?"

Jon was not surprised by his words as he always assumed that the man was some sort of an exile.

"Seems so," Jon remarked."Though I wonder why a capable warrior like you had to leave his people."

Both sadness and anger showed in the man's eyes.

"It was not a defeat in battle that turned me into an exile. I usually don't share my tale of woe, but you gave me yours," he replied and leaned on his knees."I was the third son of a Khal that was slain many years ago. My father was a hard man and my mother a peaceful creature hailing from the city we are protecting. She was the kindest creature on earth and he killed her. His main wife…his  _kahleesi_  accused my mother of infidelity and naturally my father believed the word of his favourite wife. He killed her in front of my eyes, but I knew her to be innocent. The truth is that the _kahleesi_ regarded me a danger for her son and wanted me out of the way. She hoped my father would forsake me after hearing about my mother's infidelity, but even her little ploy wasn't able to accomplish that. I was a good warrior in own right and shared a great resemblance to him. Nobody could deny that I was his son, but that wasn't enough for me. I was full of rage and in the end I killed my father's  _khaleesi_. I told you that it is tolerated to kill one's kin for power, but right of harming or even killing a  _khaleesi_ belongs solely to her husband. I dishonoured the laws of my people and had to leave. Over the years I served many men, but this here is something I chose to do. It is not for gold that I came here, but to seek redemption by aiding my mother's people."

Jon had listened patiently, but there was a question burning on his lips.

"But are you never tired of serving people like Mero?" Jon asked."You are much more capable than him. If you remained in your  _khalasar_  you might have been a powerful Khal."

The Dothraki flashed him a bitter smile."Even if I tried going back, no upright man among my people would ever follow me."

"I wasn't talking about returning to your people. I am speaking about the Second Sons. Most men here like and respect you," Jon replied vaguely, hoping his words weren't too daring.

Surprisingly the Dothraki started to laugh and patted his knees.

"You are to smart for your own good, my boy."

…


	12. Robb

King Robert and his Lannister Queen came in all the expected pomp and splendour. Robb was certainly awed, but he also knew what this visit meant for his family. The Hand of the King Lord Arryn was dead and he had no doubt that the King with the intention of naming his Lord father as his new Hand.

“That is your your oldest boy, eh?” the King asked and eyed Robb closely.”Robb is your name, isn’t it?”

Truly, King Robert was quite a disappointment to him. In his Lord Father’s stories about the war he appeared as mighty warrior, but now the King was nothing more than a fat man who smelled of wine.

Yet Robb didn’t forget about his courtesy.

The King only laughed and ruffled through Robb’s locks before moving on the rest of his siblings. He complimented Sansa’s beauty, asked for Arya’s name and joked with Bran.

It should have been a happy reunion between old friends, but Robb noticed his Lord father’s tight smile and his Lady mother’s apprehensive look.

At last the Lannister Queen appeared in company of her children. She was a beauty as all the rumors said. Her hair as golden and her eyes a bright green of jade. Yet when she smiled there was only displeasure to be found.

 _She doesn’t like it here_ , Robb guessed and eyed each of the King’s children. His second-oldest and heir Joffrey was as golden-haired as his lady mother. He even carried the same look of displeasure.

The young boy Prince Tommen couldn’t be more different from his older brother. He was short, chubby and his green eyes were wide with wonder.

Leading her little brother along was his older sister the Princess Myrcella. She was King Robert’s oldest daughter and pretty as fresh fallen star. She was graced with golden locks like her mother, but much lighter and softer. Her eyes were even sweeter when the King pulled her aside to introduce her to Robb.

“May I introduce my pretty bird of a daughter,” The King announced and the girl curtsied perfectly. Her smile was so disarming that Robb was reduced into a stuttering fool.

“It is a pleasure…to have you…here in Winterfell, Princes,” Robb stuttered and kissed her hand.

The girl flushed.

“I feel just the same,” she replied shyly before moving back to her ladies.

The King broke out in laughter at the sight in front of him and patted Robb’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know that look of your, my boy!”

Then the King shifted his attention back to his Lord father. In an instant his smile was gone and his face changed into an almost serious expression.

“Ned, I forgot…I want to pay my respects…,” the King said and sounded very sad.

His Lord father bowed his head in acknowledgement of his wishes.”Of course, your Grace. I will lead you to the crypts.”

Thus his Lord father and the King disappeared.

Robb didn’t wait for their return, because his mother expected of him to help with the guests.

As expected a grand feast was prepared for the coming of the King. The Great Hall was richly decorated in grey, crimson and gold. Several animals were slaughtered to feet their hungry guests and their Lord father ordered several gallons of wine from White Harbour

As the heir of Winterfell he had the honor of being seated next to Princess Myrcella. Sadly, the girl was silent as a mouse and Robb wasn’t much better in finding a topic to talk about. He felt like his tongue was tied into knots.

Mustering all his courage he inclined his head and addressed her.

“Myrcella,” Robb remarked quietly.”That is a very pretty name.”

Robb knew that was a silly way to start a conversation, but it was the only thing that came to his mind. Sansa was gave him and Jon that advice once a long time ago.

When the girl next to him started to laugh he knew that he chose the right words. _I will have to thank Sansa later._

“You flatter me,” she replied in a quite tone and leaned closer. She smelled of flowers and spring. It was like stepping into the godswood.

”Winterfell is also pretty. I like the snow,” she added.”I would love to see your godswood. I read about it.”

Robb was surprised by her request, but not opposed.”I would be honored to show you. Maybe tomorrow….”

“That would be wonderful…,” she replied and pursed her rosy lips.

In that moment Robb started to wonder what it would taste like to kiss those lips. Would they taste of the pie she was eating?

It was not like he didn’t know how it felt to kiss a girl, but this was different. The girl in front of him was a Princess.

Robb pulled at the collar of his tunic and leaned back in his chair.

 He needed a change of topic. He needed to do something. He needed to move.

Then he saw the Princess hopeful look and the way she eyed dancing people.

Rising from his seat he offered his hand to the Princess.”Ähm, would you like to dance?”

A bright smile crossed over her lips.”Of course, I would be honored.”

Robb felt light as a feather as a feather as he pulled her along.

He normally disliked dancing, but in that moment that mattered little to him.

It didn’t even bother her when he stepped on her feet and was forced to apologize for his clumsiness.

Whenever she laughed his heart fluttered wildly.

“Forgive my laughter,” she apologizes later as he leads her back to her seat.”I hope I didn’t insult you.”

“I am not insulted, Princess. Your laughter is like music,” he replied and smiled like the fool he was. Theon would have certainly snickered hearing such poetic words from his lips, but in that moment he didn’t care.

 Like promised Robb led the Princess into the godswood. When he saw the girl’s awed face even the early rising didn’t bother him so much after the long night behind him.

She even liked the crying faces carved into the white bark of the heart tree. There was no hint of fear, only curiosity showing in her pretty eyes.

“Who carved the face into the tree?”

“Some say the Children of the Forest did it,” Robb explained proudly and her green-blue eyes widened in fascination. Usually, southern people were frightened by them. Even his Lady mother didn’t like the sight of them.

“Do you think it true?” she asked and dared to touch the face.

“I am not sure, but why not?” he asked and smiled down at her.”If the Targaryen Kings had dragons, why shouldn’t the same be true about the existence of the Children of the Forest?”

“You are right,” Princess Myrcella agreed eagerly.”I saw the dragon skulls that my father keeps in the cellar of the Red Keep. I think they are just as much of a proof for the dragon’s existence as the carving of this tree for the Children of the Forest.”

Robb was surprised by her words. He didn’t expect that King Robert would keep heirlooms of the former dynasty.

 “I agree with you,” Robb added and gently pulled at her arm. Snowflakes were whirling around him and it was getting cold.

He needed to get her back or her Lady mother the Queen might have his head. She looked like a woman best not to be crossed.

The Princess seemed to disagree. She flashed him an impish grin and ruffled through is red locks.

“There are snowflakes in your hair!” she exclaimed and was suddenly far too close. He felt her warm breath tickle his nose and admired the soft bow of her rosy lips.

Her green-blue eyes glittered and the soft touch on his cheek was enough to make him lean down and touch his lips to hers.

They were both flushed upon their return, but Robb knew it was not from the cold.

“The Princess is a sweet girl, isn’t she?” his Lady mother asked him later.

Robb felt more than embarrassed, but it was hard to deny the truth.

”I do like her,” he admitted and his mother chuckled.

“It is quite obvious,” she added and bowed down to kiss his cheek.”You are old enough to be interested in girls and the Princess is thirteen summers and a maid flowered.”

Robb knew very well what his Lady mother was hinting at, but he didn’t even entertain the thought when he kissed her.

Not that the idea displeased him.

“What you say is true,” he agreed hesitatingly.”I am certainly not opposed.”

His mother seemed very pleased with his answer and ruffled through his hair.”Well, it seems the King also likes the idea, but this is something your father has to decide. Speaking of your father, he wants to see you.”

“Of course, I will see him at once,” he replied obediently and still surprised by this turn of events.

Surprisingly, he found his father without company. Robb expected him to seek out the King’s company after so many years of separation, but it seemed Robb’s gut feeling was right. His father’s and the King’s friendship was strained.

Stepping inside Robb dropped his head in greeting.”Mother told me you wish to speak with me.”

“I heard you spend the morning in company of the Princess,” his father remarked with a weary smile.”I hope you were polite to the girl.”

“Of course,” Robb replied and sat down.

Then his father leaned back and sighed deeply.

“The King made me an offer…,” his father began with a faltering voice.

“He wants you to be Hand of the King,” Robb finished for him.

His father’s eyes widened and he nodded his head in affirmation.

”Aye, he wants me to be his Hand I am inclined to agree. You are fifteen summers and your mother will remain here to advise you until you are old enough to rule on your own,” his father explained and leaned over the table to touch his arm.

Robb swallowed hard. After the pleasant morning in the company of the Princess he had felt happy light-hearted, but now he felt the heavy burden of responsibility weighing down at him.

“But father…can’t you refuse him?” he asked with a hopeful tone.

His father’s grip tightened on his arm and Robb knew right there that no word of his would be able to move his Lord father from his made decision.

“He is the King,” his father explained and pursed his lips.”Naming me as his Hand is not the only offer he made to me. He offered a betrothal between you and Princess Myrcella. Refusing him would be an outright insult to his face.”

Robb didn’t know what to say. He wanted the Princess, but he didn’t want his father to leave. It was already painful enough that Jon disappeared.

It was not like he didn’t know that the day would come. He only hoped it would be after his father died of old age with his grandchildren at his side.

Knowing his duty Robb dropped his head in acceptance of his father’s words.

“I am prepared to do my duty.”

“I never doubted that you would,” his father replied proudly.”But you should at least muster a smile for your wedding.”

“My wedding?”

“Aye, the King wants it done before we leave for King’s Landing. He thinks the Queen might try to prevent it from happening. I am not pleased about the idea, but he is the King and I do not dare to displease him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Myrcella is the second-oldest child, but I thought it would be nice to have her wed Robb instead of following the canon. It was a spontaneous decision.
> 
> I also tried posting this chapter on Fanfiction.net, but strangely it didn't work. I will try again tomorrow.


	13. Jon

The battle of the Golden Spring was not the last of their struggles with the Dothraki. Three smaller skirmishes another small battle followed. In this last battle they rode only with a small host of men. It made the battle only bloodier and Jon received a painful gash from one of the Dothraki blades. Luckily the wound wasn’t deep and healing well.

Several moons have passed since their arrival and now they were leaving again. It dimmed Jon’s relief of having survived his first struggles. Their victories against the Dothraki meant nothing. He was sure the Dothraki will return to seek revenge and on that fateful day the Lhazareen may not be able to afford another sellsword company.

He clearly recalled Mero’s satisfied smile when he collected the gold agreed upon by the Lhazareen. The Commander of the Second Sons obviously hoped that he won himself future customers, but Jon doubted that will the case. _This gold was the effort of many years_ , Naati had told him.

It was also strange to return to Volantis. Hesh has become sort of a home to him over the last moons, but now he was back in this sweating city full of slaves.

_Only one more year_ , Jon reminded himself. _One more year and I will leave this city behind._

Unsurprisingly Mero didn’t wait out to waste his earned coin on a victory celebration in the _Silk Maiden_. Like every celebration it included pretty girls and free wine. Naturally, all of this had a deeper reason. _Mero wants to buy their loyalty_ , Jon was sure.

While Jon held not much liking for the celebration he still savoured the taste of the wine. It was wine from the Arbor and its sweet taste made him recall happy nameday celebrations with Robb.

Thinking about his family filled him both with melancholy and aching questions.

_Does Lord Stark think me dead? Did he search for me? Was Lady Stark happy? Did Arya cry?_

Not wishing to dwell on the past he drank the wine and tried to forget about his dark thoughts. To dwell on the past made it only more painful for him.

“You look like you are attending a funeral,” Naati’s voice voiced roused him out of his dark thoughts. He has kept his distance since their last talk and so Jon was startled by his sudden appearance.

Not wishing to waste this opportunity Jon granted him one of his rare smiles.

”My brother always called it brooding,” he replied jokingly.

Naati laughed.

“Brooding…,” the Lhazareen repeated and sat down next to him. In his hand he cradled a goblet of wine.

Jon chose the quite garden of the brothel as his refuge from the loud celebrations. It was filled with exotic trees and a small pond of water. When he closed his eyes there was only silence and the sweet smell of flowers lingering in the air. It felt like being back in Winterfell’s godswood.

”Another strange word,” the young Lhazareen added.”So what are you brooding about?”

“My home…,” Jon admitted honestly.”I miss it.”

Naati gave him a strange look.”Then why are you not going back home?”

“I can’t just leave…I need the coin,” Jon explained.”I only have to make it through another year.”

“Another year of serving Mero,” Naati countered.”You can do if you wish, but I won’t. I am going home…back to Lhazar. My mother is old and I am sure she will be happy to return to her home before joining the Great Shepard. I think I might even be of service to my people.”

Recalling Kaho’s words he wasn’t really surprised by Naati’s decision.

“What about the coin?”

Naati shrugged his shoulders.”I got half my payment. I am satisfied with my lot.”

Jon managed a smile despite his obvious disappointment.

“If you are afraid of going home you could also come with me?” Naati offered encouragingly.”You might even find a nice girl to settle down.”

 Jon knew that the young man didn’t expect him to agree to his proposal, but he still appreciated the kind offer.

“I am thankful for your offer, but I think I have to decline,” Jon replied and lifted his half-empty goblet of wine.”To happy departures!”

Amused by his words the Lhazareen imitated Jon’s gesture.”To happy departures…whatever that means!”

Jon chuckled.

“It is a way to wish another person a fruitful travel!”

Now the both of them laughed.

 “Lhazareen, your friend’s present is waiting!” someone called out to Naati and interrupted their conversation. Said man was in company of several other recruits, most of them horribly drunk.

_Present?_

Jon was confused, but tried to hide it behind a smile.

“You had your nameday recently, isn’t that true?” Naati asked and a grin spread over his lips.

Jon gave a hesitant nod.

It was true. His fourteenth nameday had come and gone. Among all the the fighting he forgot about it.

“Well, you heard them. Your present is waiting,” Naati replied and pulled him to his feet.

“I do not need a present,” Jon assured him, but the other men pushed him along the corridors.

Jon cursed himself for drinking too much. He wasn’t even able to put up a fight against them.

“Your present is in there, my friend,” Naati told him at last and pushed him into the room.

When he saw the girl sitting there he grew only more anxious.

Desperately he turned around and pounded against the door.”Let me out! I need no gift!”

Muffled by the door he heard Naati’s breathless laughter.”You faced a whole _khalsar_ of Dothraki, but a girl frightens you?

Jon sighed in resignation and shifted his attention back to the girl.

“Forgive me, but I don’t think I have ever seen a boy that was afraid of me,” she remarked in an amused tone and smiled.

There was something oddly familiar about her.

It was the girl from _The Flower Garden_. The one Maester Leos offered to him.

She was even prettier than he recalled, but back then he was more concerned with finding the _Second Sons_.

His silly reaction embarrassed him deeply, but it was hard for him to shrug off his time as a bastard. _If I look back I am lost_ , he reminded himself

“I am not afraid,” he assured her, though her evident amusement made it clear to him that she didn’t quite believe his words.

Another moment of silence followed as Jon to break the silence.

“My name is Daeron,” he added awkwardly.”And you are…Lady?”

He posed the question as politely as he was able to manage in his broken Bastard Valyrian, but only received a giggle in return.

“Esmea,” she replied between the laughter, but covered her mouth once she realized her wrongdoing.

“Forgive me…I shouldn’t have laughed, but you addressed me like a noble lady,” she explained.

Jon felt like an utter fool. Robb and Theon were always better at this than him.

“I apologize, but my father taught me to treat ladies with respect.”

Her blue eyes widened.

”Even bed slaves?” she asked.”Your father sounds like a strange man.”

“Even bed slaves,” Jon answered hesitatingly.”Though your former Maester liked to call you flowers.”

Evident confusion showed on her face.

“You know my former Master Leos?”

“He wanted me to buy you, but I wasn’t interested,” he explained and an unbelieving look crossed over her pretty face.

“That cant’t be true…I would have remembered a strange sellsword like you,” she added and moved closer to get a better look at his face.

“I had a bit of a growth-spurt since then,” Jon explained and ruffled through his hair.

“That has to be the reason,” she agreed softly and moved closer to his lips.”You are quite tall.”

Those lips were pink, full and sweet to look upon, but Jon instinctively backed away from her.

The girl didn’t give up and grasped for his hand.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” she asked.”Do they not have girls where you come from?”

“No, of course not, it is just that I have never…,” he stuttered and something like understanding washed over her face.

Strangely, she didn´t laugh at this time.

“Lain with a girl?” she asked.”Isn’t that the reason you are here?”

Jon shrugged her hand off.

”You don’t understand…I could father a bastard.”

Recognition washed over her face. Smiling gently she brushed his hair out of his face.

This time he didn’t back away.

“You worry too much,” she chided him.”I am a bed slave. I was trained for this since I was a young girl. Brewing the tea that avoids such things is the first thing we learn,” she added and climbed into his lap.

Unable to stop himself his eyes darted to her sweet lips, her full breasts and the golden-brown hair.

He wanted to brush her away, but when she kissed him his firm resolve weakened.

Soon he lost himself to sweet taste of her tongue, but it was not enough to blog out the fear that always held him back.

“You don’t have to do this…,” he said with a raspy voice.

She chuckled between the kisses and started to unlace his breeches.

“Truly, you are the strangest sellsword I have ever met…,” she whispered and kissed him again, long and deep.

Something stirred inside him and the warm spread over him as she mounted him like the Dothraki did with their horses.

The rest was like a blur, but the sting of shame ailed him.

Was this feeling what drove his blood father to this mother and what made him abandon his other family?

Jon was not sure, but he still felt the shame burning in his heart as he dressed himself.

“I won´t mind another visit,” she called after him as he left. Her smile was sweet as honey and Jon even managed polite reply.

Just because he felt ashamed doesn´t mean the girl deserved his scorn. She was nothing more than another victim of her Maester´s deeds, like thousands of other slaves in this city.

…


	14. Cat

A half-moon bathed the godswood in soft silver as her son and bride stood before the heart to tree so exchange their vows. Robb walked at Ned's side while the Princess was led by her father the King.

Robb was dressed in grey and black as befitted the heir of Winterfell. The Princess was even lovelier. Her dress was a dream of yellow brocade and a glittering veil of gold.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" Ned's solemn voice broke the silence. His expression was a mix of pride and fear. Ned wanted to refuse Robert, but in the end Cat was able to convince him otherwise. They cannot afford to insult the King or even raise the slightest hint of doubt about their loyalty. Her sister's strange letter that painted the Lannisters as enemies of the King and the supposed murderers of Lord Arryn convinced her only more that it was the right decision.

"Princess Myrcella of House Baratheon and Lannister comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods…" the King replied proudly. Looking at him now she hardly recognized the old Robert Baratheon, but when he smiled back at Ned she believed to see a glimpse of the man he once was."Who comes to claim her?"

Robb trembled slightly as he stepped forward.

"Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North," he replied firmly and met the King's gaze. "Who gives her?"

"Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhaoynar and the First Men," the King replied and joined his daughter's hand with Robb's.

It was hard to make out the girl's face hidden under the veil, but Cat recalled her own fears when she was led into the Sept of Riverrun to wed Ned.

"Do you take his man?"

"I take this man," she replied and squeezed Robb's hand. Her son smiled down at her and carefully pulled the golden cloak from her shoulders before replacing it with his heavy fur cloak emblazed with the direwolf of Winterfell.

"You may now kneel before the gods to receive their blessing," Ned added and both Robb and the Princess knelt down before the heart tree. A long moment of silence and prayer followed before Robb pulled his bride back to her feet and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Thus the marriage ceremony was ended and the guests retreated back into the Great Hall. As the groom's mother Cat was placed next to the Queen who glowered throughout the whole ceremony. She understood that it was hard for her to leave her only daughter, but this was her only daughter's wedding.

"The boy is a fair to look upon," the Queen remarked suddenly and snapped Cat out of her deep thoughts."I only wished my sweet little girl received a ceremony deserving of her position. Sadly my husband never thinks about such things."

Cat kept her true thoughts to herself and granted the Queen an understanding smile."I understand that the godswood of Winterfell is nothing compared to the Great Sept of Baelor, but the children seem quite pleased with the arrangement."

The Queen seemed amused by her words.

"Were you happy when you wed your husband?" the Queen asked and sipped from her wine."I recall that you were meant to marry Lord Stark's older brother."

Cat bit her lips. She had no wish to discuss such a personal matter on the wedding day of her oldest son, but the woman seated next to her was still the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I hardly knew my husband, but over time I grew to love him," Cat admitted and folded her hands in front of her.

"Was it not much the same for you, your Grace?" Cat asked, but didn't mean it seriously. She hardly knew Robert and the Queen, but there was no great love between them. That was quite clear from the short time she spent in their presence.

When the Queen nearly choked on her wine Cat felt she won a small victory.

"Yes…it was much the same for me," the Queen replied and forced a false smile over full lips as she turned to look at the King. As usual he had several girls in his vicinity. One sat in his lap, another one poured him wine and several others giggled like hens in in presence of a rooster. Cat saw the irritated look on Ned's face and realized again how blessed she was.

 _Even the lies he gave me were done out of goodness_ , she thought and looked back to Robb and his Princess.  _May they only know happiness._

Silence reigned between her and the Queen for the rest of the meal. Finally, the musicans were called forward and the dancing began.

Robb was no great dancer and stumbled over his bride's feet. After he first dance he seemed quite happy to leave the dance floor to the other guests.

Cat herself held little interest in dancing and observed the guests. It was the only thing she could do with the displeased Queen seated next to her.

 _I should have kept my mouth shut_ , she thought spotted the rest of her children mingling among the guests.

There was Sansa twirling little Rickon, Bran awkwardly dancing with Beth Cassle and Arya feeding chicken tights to her direwolf settled beneath the table.

Across the room she also found Theon Greyjoy toasting with Robb. The sight left her with an uneasy feeling she was unable to shrug off.

 _One boy is missing_ , she thought and grasped for her goblet of wine. The taste was sweet, but didn't help to alleviate the familiar feeling of guilt settling in her stomach.

She always told herself that there was no use to dwell on failings, but in moments like this she couldn't help it. Her old self would have laughed about her. Once she wished for nothing more that to have the boy remove from her home, but now she wanted him back only to see Robb's smile more often.

 _Maybe his bride will help with that_.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of music and laughter. The end of the feast was heralded by the loudest of the Lords calling for the bedding. It didn't surprise her when it turned out to be the Greatjon.

Quickly the men lifted the Princess into the air before carrying her out of the hall while the ladies did the same with a quite flustered Robb. Again Cat saw the displeased look on the Queen's face as they followed behind the procession of laughing men and women.

Hoping to soothe the woman's fear she told Ned to curb the men's enthusiasm, but that turned out harder than anticipated given that most of them were quite drunk.

Surprisingly, the Princess didn't seem to mind the attention and laughed with the men as they wiggled her out of her fine golden dress.

 _A brave little lioness_ , Cat thought and inclined her head to look back at the Queen.

The golden-haired woman stood frozen like a statue of stone. Her face was tense and the clear disgust showing in her jade eyes worried Cat.

 _I should say something_ , Cat thought and moved closer to the Queen's side.

"The Princess bears all this admirably. During my bedding I feared my heart would stop," she admitted, but in return she only received a cool look.

"During my bedding Robert crawled into my bed and called me Lyanna," the Queen replied sharply and moved to her daughter's side.

Half-naked the girl sat on the bed and kissed her mother's cheek before they all left the wedding chamber behind them.

Cat who was still a little stunned by the Queen's words went to find Ned. Due to all the wedding preparations she had hardly time to share his company.

"I am surprised the King retired early," she remarked as she found him without company.

He granted her a tired smile and grasped for her arm."He was horribly drunk and I fear he took one of the servant girls with him, but I agree with you. He was very happy about the wedding. He always wanted to join our houses."

Cat heard the displeasure in Ned's voice and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

Lovingly she smoothed his disheveled hair and smiled when he leaned into her touch.

"I think we should follow the King's example or you will be tired during the Hunt tomorrow," she offered softly.

"Knowing you I won't sleep tonight," he whispered back to her and pulled her along.

…


	15. Jon

Mero sat perched on a cushioned seat and eyed Jon as if he was some queer animal.

"What is your name again, boy?" he asked and continued sipping from his wine.

Jon raised his head to meet the man's bright green eyes.

"Daeron," he replied curtly.

Mero nodded his head and stroked through his bushy-red beard."Your face is familiar. How did you join our services, again?" he asked and picked for one of the honeyed dates placed on a bowl near his seat.

Jon was not surprise that the man forgot about him.

"I came to find you in the  _Silk Maiden_ , Mistress Malladars' brothel," Jon answered as politely as he was able to manage.

Something like recognition washed over Mero's face before broke out in laughter.

"Ah, I remember!" he exclaimed."What did the Mistress call you again?"

Jon gritted his teeth, but replied as was expected of him."Pretty boy."

Mero howled with laughter."Ah, yes the pretty boy. I thought you died when we fought the Dothraki. Well, it is hard to keep an eye on all the comings and goings…so please forgive my forgetfulness."

"It is no bother," Jon replied.

Mero seemed pleased with his answer and licked the honey from his fingers before continuing the conversation.

"Well, enough with the exchange of pleasantries. I called you here, because I have need of you. It is a delicate task and concerns Triarch Maegyr's family."

"What is so delicate about this task?" Jon asked and tried to hide his his curiosity behind a blank face.

He knew that the Triarch was one of the three ruling men of the city, but not much else about the man.

Mero leaned forward and flashed Jon a dismissive look.

"Oh, I forgot that you are a Westorosi. In nine months' time the annual elections will be held. Triarch Maegyr is planning for a re-election, but as the only tiger between two elephants his power is often tied. Aiming to change this he intends to marry his pretty daughter to Triarch Nyessos Vhassar, a rich slave trader and member of the elephant party. Naturally, here are people who disapprove of this marriage. Especially, the third Triarch Doniphos Paenymion is a known enemy of Triarch Maegyr. So keep his precious girl safe from harm Triarch Maegyr asked me to send a few of my capable men into his service."

Jon had listened patiently, but was unsure what to think. He knew that the members of the tiger fractions were often men who tasted the blood of war. Surely a powerful man like the Triarch would have no need of a boy like him?

"I understand," Jon replied vaguely."But what will be my role in this? Surely it will not be my task to look after the girl?"

Mero laughed and waved his hand.

"No, the girl does not concern you. I already chose the right men or this task," he explained and smiled again."Your task will be different. The Triarch's only son is well-read, but swings a sword like a girl with pansy. The Triarich hopes the right kind of companion might encourage him to forget about his dusty books and become a worthy successor to his father's inheritance. That would be your task."

Jon was stunned into silence by his words. He expected to spend the next moons fighting in the Disputed Lands, but now Mero wanted him to babysit a noble boy. It made no sense to him.

"Why would someone like the Triarch of Volantis want a sellsword to train his son? Are there no other noble sons available to become this boy's companion?"

Mero seemed annoyed by his questions, but answered nonetheless.

"The old tiger wants someone who already saw a battlefield and the boy won't accept an illiterate fool as his companion. It is not easy to find someone among the nobility of Volantis that saw a battlefield. Most of them spend their time growing fat on their riches and are sending their slaves to fend for them. Kaho assured me you are literate and the fact that you are around the boy's age helps too."

Jon never spoke to a person hailing from the nobility, but he often saw them travel in their  _hathays_. He doubted they will be very pleasant company, but the fact that the Dothraki recommended him meant he couldn't easily decline without insulting him.

"What is your answer?" Mero's impatient voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Jon sighed and ruffled through his hair. He didn't like the task, but beggars can't be choosers.

"I agree."

"Good," Mero replied and emptied his goblet."The Triarich awaits us in three days."

…

As expected Triarch Maegyr resided in a spacious villa situated in the old district of Volantis. Truly, it was a strange feeling to be one of the few foreigners allowed to enter the Black Walls.

To make a good impression Mero even provided him and the other men with fresh clothing. Jon received a new tunic, fine wool pants and polished boots. He was not quite sure what kind material the tunic was made of, but the cloth was strangely soft. Despite growing up as a nobleman's bastard he never possessed such fine clothing. Appearance didn't matter so much to the lords of the North. Important was that your garments kept you warm against the winter's chill.

Mero himself was dressed in his finest armor and even trimmed his red beard. They even travelled by a  _hathhay_. Jon would have certainly preferred a horse, but in his time in Volantis learned soon enough that no upright nobleman would ever travel by horse or foot. This way of transport was usually reserved for the poor folk.

Arriving at the villa they were greeted by a bare-shaved man. He was dressed in flowing pink robes and around his neck he wore a golden chain with a tiger pendant.

"I am Lyrios," the man said and bowed his head in greeting."I have the honor to bring you before my Master. Please follow me."

In silence they followed the man through a maze of long arched halls. Jon was awed by the beauty of the Triarch's residence. Everywhere he found statues made of pale marble, beautiful carpets and painted walls.

The Triarch's solar was even more impressive; the walls were richly painted with depictions of hunt and war.

High on a cushioned seat sat a man hidden behind a translucent curtain.

Lyrios clapped his hands together and a slave boy came forward to pull the curtain away.

Residing on the cushioned high seat was a man of tall stature, fair complexion, full face and keen black eyes. That he was at least sixty and hairless, didn't dim the strong impression he left on Jon.

The scars littering his face spoke of a man who knew many battles in his long life.

"Revered Triarich, I bring to you Commander Mero of the Second Sons and his companions."

The Triarch nodded his head in understanding and waved his hand."I thank you for your service, Lyrios. Please call for my children and ask the servants to bring the food. My guests will not go hungry."

"Of course," Lyrios replied and departed from the solar.

Shortly after the servants came forward and brought cushions for them to sit down. They also brought several low-set tables and laid out an overwhelming amount of food. There were different kinds of exotic meat, sweet fruits and of course plenty of wine.

Finally seated the Triarch held out his goblet and had one of the servants pour him wine.

Even Mero waited silently until the Triarch broke the silence.

"Please eat and drink as you please," the old man declared before shifting his attention to Mero.

"Commander Mero, I heard about your fruitful battles against the Dothraki," the Triarch stated and smiled.

"The Lhazareen were satisfied and paid well, that is all that counts to me, revered Triarch," Mero replied and returned the old man's smile.

The Triarch seemed amused and showed his toothless smile."It is always important that one is rewarded adequately. Know that you will be equally rewarded for your service. Sadly, it doesn't include killing Dothraki. I chose you, because your men have a certain ruthless reputation. My enemies are plenty and none of them play honorably. That is why employed your help."

"Of course," Mero replied and turned to look over to the men he chose for the protection of the Triarch's daughter."I assured you that I only chose the best men for this task."

Jon knew only one of them by name, but they were all strongly-build and prepared to kill anyone who dared to cross their path. The one Jon knew was named Tilu and and hailed from Norvos.

"And who of these capable men will train my son?" inquired the Triarch.

Jon swallowed hard and put the goblet down. Not that he drank much. He was far too nervous too stomach the wine, no matter how fine it tasted.

"That is me. I am Daeron, revered Triarch."

Surprisingly, the old man chuckled.

"Forgive my amusement, but your name surprises me," the old man remarked."Daeron…that was the name of the Dragon King who conquered Dorne. When I was a boy my father had me study the Young Dragon's exploits in battle. Hearing your name woke a sweet memory from my childhood."

Jon was surprised that a man in the Free Cities took interest in the History of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You speak true, revered Triarch. Daeron's exploits in Dorne are quite fruitful for the mind. I read them, but I can't say I have studied them."

"Interesting," the Triarch said."Your Commander informed me beforehand that you came all the way here from the Sunset Kingdoms. I can hear your accent, but forgive me if I am unable to place it. Pray tell me from which of the Seven Kingdoms do you hail?"

"I hail from the North," Jon replied vaguely.

"Well, that explains it. I don't think I have ever met anyone from there. Not that it matters. I have need of you to teach my son how to use a sword," he continued, but stopped when Lyrios returned in company of a young boy and girl.

"Speaking of my son…may I introduce Narsos and my precious daughter Talisa."

The boy named Narsos was maybe sixteen namedays old. He had a round face and golden-brown hair. His sister was a little darker skinned, but had the same golden-brown hair. The both of them were dressed in pale velvet silk that made them look like twins.

"Please meet our guests," the Triarch declared.

"It is a pleasure," the round-faced boy replied, but his displeasure over this meeting was quite evident. The sister didn't seem to share her brother's dislike and eyed them with curiosity.

At once the servants came forward and brought cushions for the newcomers to sit down comfortably.

Then the Triarch continued where he left off and turned back to Jon."I want to introduce your temporary companion, my son. I hope he will be able to distract you from your Valyrian poetry."

"As you say, father," the boy muttered sullenly and granted Jon a curt nod. The sister seemed displeased with her brother's behavior and flashed Jon an apologetic look.

"I heard you hail from the Sunset Kingdoms. My brother has great interest in learning and I am sure he will be pleased to hear more about your home," she said and turned back to her brother."Isn't that true, Narsos?"

Her brother shrugged his shoulders.

"The Seven Kingdoms lack the same complexity as the Free Cities. I fear it will only bore me to death," Narsos declared haughtily.

Jon winced at the boy's proud tone, but Mero told him beforehand that he liked to talk.

"Then you are wrong. Granted the Free Cities are very different from each other, but so are the Seven Kingdoms. The North is very different from Dorne…this I can assure you," Jon replied politely and basked in the boy's sizzling anger. He faced the Dothraki and wasn't afraid of this proud boy. He endured twelve years of Theon's insults.

Contrary to his son the Triarch seemed pleased with Jon's answer and smiled at Mero.

"I am pleased with your choice. The boy may stay."


	16. Sansa

Sansa was unable to contain her tears when she looked at Bran's broken body. Nobody knew why or how it happened that her brother fell from the Broken Tower.  _A thousand times I saw him climb, but not even once have I seen him slip_ , Robb had raged between tears.

The following night Maester Luwin and her Lady mother spent locked up in her brother's room, caring and watching over Bran. That was three days ago, but Bran was still in a deep sleep.  _If he wakes up he is going to live_ , Maester Luwin had told her Lady mother and father, but Sansa still feared for her little brother's life. He seemed so small and fragile.

Yet none of Maester Luwin's words were enough to soothe her Lady mother's suffering. Day and night her Lady mother cared for Bran. Sansa doubted she had more than a handful hours of sleep. Truly, it felt like they were thrown out of a peaceful dream and woke up in a nightmare. Only a day before they celebrated Robb's wedding and now Sansa felt as if all the happiness disappeared from this world. Even the prospect of living at court and was dimmed by this dark event.

"He looks so peaceful," Myrcella's soft voice roused Sansa out of her somber thoughts."He looks like he is sleeping."

Sansa nodded her head and put her stitching material away. In the past it never failed to soothe her mind, but now the work left her empty.

"Maester Luwin said he might wake up soon," Sansa replied."That is why mother wants to watch over him all the time."

Myrcella nodded her head in understanding and touched Sansa's shoulder."I understand your Lady mother's pain. My own mother was much the same when my brothers were sick, but she also needs her rest."

Sansa smiled over Myrcella's kind words. It made her wonder if all the girls in King's Landing are so kind and well-behaved like the Princess. Not that it would surprise her. Even the Queen came personally to give her condolences to her Lady mother. Sansa eavesdropped their conversation and heard about the Queen's grievous loss of a child.

 _Arya could learn much from her_ , Sansa thought and wished her sister would remain here in Winterfell. Lately she was trying to be more understanding of her Arya's unladylike behavior, but one day even her adventurous little sister will have to grow up and conform to her position as a High Lord's daughter. No lord likes to wed a girl that keeps wearing her dirty riding garb and has hair wild like a bird's nest.

"Sansa-!" the Princess called out to her.

"I am sorry…my mind was far away," she apologized and squeezed the other girl's hand."You are right. My Lady mother ought to rest more and I fear what will become of her once we leave for King's Landing. I admit wishing your father the King would put up the departure for a few more days."

"I know it is not much of a consolation, but I will do my best to be of aid to your Lady mother and brother. I really adore your little brother Rickon, but I wish Tommen could remain here with me. He is still so little and Joffrey is often mean to him. I won't even be able to give him the nameday present I intended for him…a cat like he always wished for," the Princess replied and smiled sadly.

Sansa was touched by her words, but her remark about the Crown Prince surprised her a little. Prince Joffrey was always gallant and polite to her. On the wedding he even asked Sansa to dance with him and complimented her self-made dress. Of course, her little sister had to ruin it all when she splattered her pretty dress with pudding.

Not that Sansa dared to voice those thoughts openly. She knew her courtesy.

"I am sure I can't replace a dear sister like you, but I will look out for your brother Tommen…we are sisters after all."

Myrcella looked thankful and opened her mouth to speak when the door suddenly opened. Both of the girls turned around and Sansa's heart fluttered widly when saw Prince Joffrey standing at the door. He was dressed in rich crimson and gold, his locks falling lazily around his well-shaped face.

"Joff…," Myrcella said and looked very apprehensive."Did mother send you?"

"Mother is busy with preparing our departure, sweet sister," Prince Joffrey anwered and granted Sansa a brilliant smile. Her cheeks burned hot under his jade-like gaze, but she tried her best to hide it behind a polite smile.

 _A lady should never reveal her affections openly_ , she recalled Septa Mordane's teachings. Sansa knew it was unlikely that the King would seek a second marriage with House Stark, but she couldn't help her feelings.

"Besides, I came here to give my condolences to your Lady mother, Lady Sansa. I already gave them your Lord father, but I am unable to find her. One of the servants referred me here, but it seems she is disposed," the Prince explained gallantly as befitted a Crown Prince.

"Lady Stark is resting. She watched over poor Bran throughout the whole night. If you want I will gladly relay your well-wishes to her once she wakes," Myrcella replied and looked strangely anxious.

 _Maybe it is only the sadness of having to leave her beloved brother behind_ , Sansa guessed.

"I would be very thankful, sweet sister," he replied and moved closer. Then his jade eyes swept over Bran's unmoving form."Poor boy… your Maester mentioned that your brother will never walk again even if he were to awake from his slumber. Truly, a sad fate for such a lively boy."

Hearing he Prince's heartfelt words Sansa was even unable to form a sentence.

"Bran can still do things. He can be a Maester or a Lord. Uncle Tyrion said so," Myrcella replied strangely cold. Gone was the sweet girl from before. There was a sharpness to her tone that frightened Sansa.

"Our Uncle is an ugly, little monster that wastes my grandfather's gold on whores. If it wasn't for grandfather and Uncle Jaime I would long disinherited this stain on the Lannister legacy," the Prince replied equally sharp and straightened himself to appear. The Prince loomed proudly over his sister, but it seemed his words only helped to spur on the Princess.

"What do you even know about our Uncle?" she asked in a bitter tone."It is no wonder that he spends his time with such ladies when grandfather doesn't even bother to find him a proper lady to wed or an occupation to engage his able mind."

The Prince's expression darkened and Sansa felt utterly helpless.  _I need to say something to stop them from fighting_.

"Careful, sweet sister," the Prince replied warningly."It seems you are forgetting your place. I am father's heir and one day my word will be law. Your pretty head might be unable to comprehend this, but I cannot allow people to besmirch our family's honor," he added and was now only an arm's length away from them.

It was in that moment that Sansa noticed the blue bruise showing on his cheek.

"My Prince…you are hurt," Sansa remarked pointing at the bruise."Who did this to you?"

Sansa saw the anguish wash over his handsome face. It made her head ache, but sadly the Prince brushed her hand away.  _He is a proud lion_ , Sansa thought admiringly.  _It is to be expected._

"Did you get a beating in the practice yard?" Myrcella asked in an almost mocking tone. Sansa was truly shocked, but kept her composure like expected of a true Lady.

"It is nothing!" was all the Prince declared and looked rightfully angered by his sister's disrespectful words.

"Be careful with your words and remember your place, little sister," the Prince warned again and pulled at Myrcella's arm."I would rather focus on your wifely duties. Our Lord father expects a grandchild."

Sansa saw the anger wash over the Princess' face and feared her reply, but all of a sudden Summer stirred from his sleep.

Angrily the direwolf bared his teeth at the Prince and Sansa even had to grasp him around the neck to keep him still.

"I think it is you who should leave now, brother," Myrcella warned."Be assured that I will relay your massage to Lady Stark."

Joffrey let go of his sister's arm threw a curt bow to Sansa before leaving them alone.

Sansa exhaled deeply and turned back to Summer."Hasn't Bran trained you properly?"

The direwolf only yawned and settled back down on the bed.

"Oh, Sansa do no chide him!" Myrcella added and looked strangely pale."I don't think your brother could have a more loyal beast at his side."

…


	17. Jon

Left and right the practice blade clinked against the metal shield bringing forth a funny tune that reminded Jon of home. Yet the boy in front of him was not Robb, but Narsos Maegyr the Triarch's only son. A moon ago Jon joined the household and became the boy's companion.

"This pummeling with the sword makes my ears bleed!" Narsos whined when Jon's blade hit the boy's helmet. Again the metal sang in its familiar tune.

Jon ignored the boy's complaints and slashed from the right side. Finally, shutting his mouth Narsos managed to parry next Jon's blow. Not that Jon put much effort into his sword thrusts. At the beginning he tried to train Narsos like Ser Roderik would have done it, but soon he realized that the boy lacked both the will and the bodily strength to do so.

"Good work!" Jon complimented Narsos and pulled his blade backwards."But you have to keep your shield up. Whenever I hit you let it drop. So don't be surprised if I ring your head like a bell."

Exhaling the boy put up his shield and slashed at Jon's left side. It was not hard to parry the boy's stroke, but Jon was satisfied to see that Narsos was showing improvement.

"Not bad," Jon replied and intentionally slowed down his movements to make it easier for the boy. Like instructed Narsos lifted his shield to stop the next blow and pushed his sword forward, barely touching Jon's shoulder.

It was not much, but certainly an improvement.

"I nearly hit you!" the Narsos exclaimed and smiled happily.

"You did, but only barely," Jon told him and nodded towards the shield.

"Keep your shield up!" Jon added and this time he didn't slow down, hitting the boy's padded shoulder.

"See, now you are dead again," Jon stated and let his practice blade grace over Narsos' neck.

"This is ridiculous!" the Narsos exclaimed angrily and pushed the blade away.

"We have been doing this for nearly a moon and I still feel like a fool. Either you are a horrible teacher or I am just hopeless," Narsos added and dropped both blade and shield.

Narsos's reaction didn't surprise Jon. He recognized soon that boy in front of him didn't like failure and was used to succeed at his tasks.

"You are not hopeless. Learning how to use a sword needs a lot of practice and some people are more talented than others. There is no shame in needing time to master something," Jon replied, but tried to stay honest. Lies will not serve the boy.

"And who gave you these pretty lies?" he asked mockingly."Your mother?"

"My mother is dead," Jon replied curtly and put his own practice blade away. Then he pulled the helmet from his head and brushed through his sweaty hair."The Maester serving my Uncle's household gave those words to his son when he had problems learning his sums."

Narsos snorted and made his way over to a young servant boy cradling a bowl of water. Thankful for the refreshment Narsos sprinkled the water over his golden-brown locks, before turning his attention back to Jon.

"The Maesters of the Citadel think themselves wise, but most of them are just brittle old man. They sit in their tower in Oldtown and think the world will always remain as it was."

"The Maester serving in my Uncle's household was a good man. He thought me a lot," Jon defended, though he had no idea what the other Maesters were like. He only knew Maester Luwin and Maester Aemon who both had a pleasant disposition.

Narsos scoffed and pulled his sweaty tunic over his head. Then the young servant boy handed him a fresh one made of a soft yellow cloth.

Carefully Narsos pulled the fine clothing over his shoulders and fixed it with an orange sash. At once the tension seemed to ebb out of the boy's body as he found himself back in his familiar garments.

With a wave of Narsos' hand the servant boy came before Jon.

While Jon was used to receive help from servants he was unable to approve of their constant presence with every minor task of the day. They were everywhere he looked and Jon wanted nothing more than to send them away. Naturally, he understood that it would only make their life harder if he refused their help.

Granting the boy an uncomfortable smile Jon sprinkled the cool water over his hair.

"I thank you," he unconsciously added, before shifting his attention back to Narsos. The noble boy sat perched under one of the many palm trees lining the courtyard and observed Jon with an amused smile.

Jon felt like a fool, but kept his thoughts to himself.  _Only eight more moons and I will get my coin…_

"Forgive me," Narsos apologized, obviously sensing Jon's discomfort."I am just trying to imagine the faces of the other nobles if they saw you thanking a slave boy for his work. Most of them would either spit at you or think you mad."

"Slavery is a crime where I come from," Jon explained and pulled off his sweaty tunic.

Narsos nodded his head in understanding."That may be true, but what are your farmers other than slaves of their lords?"

Jon put on a clean tunic and pondered over the boy's words. It was just another one of their strange conversations. Mero was right when he told him that the boy liked talking, though Jon realized soon that his ideas were not without merit. The boy in front of him may never become a great swordsman, but he had a sharp mind that liked to entertain odd thoughts.

Besides, Narsos was not wrong. Granted the farmers were not called slaves, but even Jon knew that many of them often depended on their lord's generosity. One false word was sometimes enough to suffer a lord's displeasure.

"You make a good argument, but they can at least choose to go if they dislike their lord and serve another."

"Of course they can go, but most of them will put up with a bad lord just to be able to feed their children."

Jon sighed and dropped his head in acknowledgment."Aye, all men need to feed their children."

A triumphant smile crossed over the boy's lips and the boy moved towards the steps leading up the villa. Every day after training Narsos spent his time reading and studying. As his companion Jon stayed with him.

"See, the slaves are not much different, but I am prepared to admit that we depend far too much on them. You can count three slaves for one free man here in Volantis. It is only a matter of time until this will lead to problems," he continued to speak while Jon followed the boy up the whirling stone-steps leading up to the household library.

Every time Jon stepped into this room he felt awed by the sheer number of scrolls and books. Even Maester Luwin would run green with envy if he saw this spacious library brimming with knowledge. Sadly the majority of these papers were written in High Valyrian, a language Jon was more or less unable to read. Granted he understood Bastard Valyrian, but High Valyrian was far more sophisticated as Narsos liked to remind him every time Jon failed conjugating a verb. His poor attempts never failed to embarrass Jon, but it part of the odd arrangement he had with the boy: Narsos promised to follow through with his sword training and in exchange he tried to teach Jon basic High Valyrian.

"Why would it lead to problems?" Jon inquired after a while.

Narsos smirked and settled down next to his desk, heaped with scrolls and books.

"Due to over overreliance on slavery the normal citizens of the Volantis have little hope of feeding their families. It is not out of the question that they sell themselves into slavery in order to find work. I tell you, one day the slaves will stop bowing down to us and make us pay for our overindulgence. Such a slave rebellion may succeed or not, but many of those haughty nobles find death by the very people they enslaved to ease their life."

"What about your father?" Jon asked and was surprised how fervent the other boy spoke about this topic.  _Maybe I misjudged him…_

"What about your father?" Jon asked."He seems a reasonable man. Have you ever thought about bringing this to his attention?

Hearing Jon's question, Narsos broke out in shrill laughter.

"My father helping slaves?" the boy asked in an unbelieving tone."That would be like putting a holy man in charge of a brothel. My father is a tiger and the nature of soldiers like him is to sack cities and to enslave its population."

"What about you then?" Jon prodded."One day you might become Triarch. You could change the laws in favor of the slaves and ease their lives."

"Me?" Narsos asked and appeared stunned."If my father's enemies have their way I won't even make it to that age. I am also lacking with the blade. I am not made of the mettle that makes a tiger. It is one of the reasons I regard this weapon training as pointless. I would prefer to enjoy the few years I have left before my family falls into ruins."

Jon didn't know why, but the boy's words angered him.

"So instead of making an improvement you rather waste your time with Valyrian poetry?" Jon asked bitingly.

"What is wrong with poetry?" the boy asked in an irritated tone."Empires rise and fall, but such art will last through the centuries."

Then the boy grasped for one of the scrolls and fiddled them in front of Jon's face as if to emphasize his point."Look at all those grand dynasties. The Dragon Kings once ruled over the Seven Kingdoms, but now it's heir is reduced to a beggar on the streets. I heard even sold his own sister to a Dothraki Khal to win himself an army. I don't think I have ever heard of a greater fool."

Jon felt like someone slapped him hard. The boy's words stunned him into utter silence.

_The heir of the Seven Kingdoms sold his own sister to a Dothraki Khal?_

"When …when did you hear about that?" Jon asked and winced at the trembling sound in his voice.

Narsos appeared startled by Jon's reaction, but answered nonetheless.

"Several moons ago. They say they celebrated the wedding in Pentos, before leaving the city. Apparently, Viserys Targaryen accompanied them."

Jon gripped the table tightly turning his knuckles white.

_How can a brother sell a little girl to a Dothraki Khal?_

"You look pale," Narsos remarked quietly."Did my words upset you?"

Jon swallowed hard and tried to regain his composure.

"I am sorry…I am just a little shocked," Jon admitted hesitatingly.

Narsos granted him an understanding look."As I said: Viserys Targaryen is a fool if he thinks the Dothraki will cross the Narrow Sea to give him a crown."

Jon recalled what Kaho once told him about the Dothraki.  _They respect the strength and look down on weakness._

It made him shudder.

"Indeed," Jon added after a while and picked one of the scrolls from the boy's hand."Let us continue with the Valyrian," Jon added determinedly.  _Once I have my coin I will go and find them, horselord or not._

…


	18. Myrcella

The morning was cold and mist rose from her mouth like smoke. Quietly she watched Rickon run circles around Shaggy. Now and then he giggled happily and every time her heart ached with longing for sweet Tommen. Joffrey was often cruel to him and it was always her who protected him from their brother.  _Now he is alone._

It was not the only thing that dimmed her mood. First it Bran fell from the Broken Tower and now something even scarier happened. Two nights ago a man entered Bran's chambers and tried to kill him. Luckily, Lady Stark was able to stop the man, but received painful cuts on her hands. Summer's presence there also helped as it was the direwolf who killed the man.

At first she was scared of the direwolves, but she soon realized that they were more than normal beasts. They were smart like humans.  _Summer saw Joffrey for what he is_ , she thought and recalled the incident at Bran's sickbed. It made her wish her Lady mother would see the world like Bran's direwolf.

"Cella!" Rickon's excited voice snapped her out of her thoughts and held a bunch of freshly-picked flowers out to her."Shaggy found them!"

Granting a thankful smile to the boy she brought the flowers to her nose. They spoke of snow, woods and the North. It was a different from the South. Everything was harder, but not less beautiful. She liked it, but she also needed more time to get used to the constant chill greeting her in the morning when she slipped out of bed. Even now she was shivering, but she was determined to adapt to her new home.  _I am a Stark now and my children will be of the North_.

"Thank you, they are beautiful!" she thanked Rickon and pulled him closer to place a kiss on his cheek.

Rickon grimaced like all little boys do when girls dare to kiss them.

"Your lips are cold !" he complained and Myrcella chuckled.

"Do not fret, my little lord. I only need more time to get used to the winter's chill," she told him, but Rickon was pulling at her arm.

"We should get warm. Robb would be angry if you get sick. Bran is sick," he explained and she heard the sadness lacing the little boy's voice.

"Oh, my sweetling," she said and lifted him up."Bran will get better. Soon he will wake and you can play again."

Rickon buried face in her neck.

"Luwin said that he will never be able to run again. That will make Bran angry…I don't like it when he is angry," the little boy muttered and she felt the salty tears rolling down her neck.

"I don't think Bran would ever be angry with you," she assured him again and ruffled through his soft locks."I am sure he will be very happy to play with you."

Rickon pulled his head backwards and looked at her with wide tear-riddled eyes."And you are not lying to me?"

Myrcella nodded her head and nuzzled his cheek. It was as cold as the falling snowflakes kissing her cheeks.

"You are also cold, little Lord," she told him and felt Shaggy rubbing against her feet."I think we should get back inside and visit Bran."

Rickon brushed his tears away and smiled."I would also like some pie…I am hungry…and it will be long until we get supper."

Myrcella chuckled. She knew that Rickon held a sweet tooth and often tried to steal pies from he kitchen maids.

"First we go to see Bran and your Lady mother and then we will see about the pie," she replied and put him back on the ground.

Rickon looked a little disappointed, but didn't refuse to take her offered hand. Together they ventured back to the castle while Shaggy trailed after them. It didn't surprise her to find Robb, Theon and the other men occupied with their swordplay. Robb looked different now, wearing armor and a real sword. It felt as if a lifetime has passed since she wed him under the godswood of Winterfell. Not only did it show in Robb's new garments, but it also affected his demeanor. He was always kind to her, but around the men he tried to appear the Lord, unyielding and cold. It bothered, but she understood that he was under a lot of pressure. His father entrusted him with a great responsibility and she knew how important it was for him to make his father proud.

Sometimes it saddened her to see how close he was with his father. She was sure that her own father didn't dislike her, but never once did show her the affection Lord Stark held for his children. Her Lady mother was different, but Joffrey was always her most beloved, her precious boy that can never do anything wrong.

"Robb!" Rickon called out to his brother. Immediately he stopped his training and winked back at them. From the distance she thought that there was a smile on his lips, but maybe it was only her imagination. Shortly after the attack on Bran's life Robb started to behave strangely. Maybe it was only silly feeling, but she felt as if he was hiding something from her.

Pulling at Rickon's arm she winked back at Robb, before leading him to Bran's chambers. Not surprised she found Lady Stark feeding her unconscious son with honey and the draughts Maester Luwin prepares for him every morning.

"Mother!" Rickon exclaimed and smiled."We went to the godswood and picked flowers. Shaggy found them," he blabbered happily and crawled into her lap. Lady Stark's pale face changed to a soft smile.

"You are dirty," she chided and pointed at his dirty cheek."I think you should go and get your face cleaned up. Will you do that for me?"

He didn't look happy, but didn't refuse his Lady mother's wish. Rickon was always a little wild, but when it came to his Lady mother was often soft like a deer.

"I will do as you ask, Lady mother," he replied politely and strolled out of the room with Shaggydog at his side.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them after Rickon left the room. It wasn't the first time. Yesterday Myrcella went to see Bran and offered Lady Stark her assistance, but she was refused. It felt as if the Lady mistrusted her.

_It is to be expected. I am a stranger in her home._

Banishing those dark thoughts she forced a smile on her lips.

"Bran looks much better. His cheeks are even a little rosy," she said in an attempt to break the silence between them.

"He is still slumbering and now he nearly died. I do not like that you are running around with Rickon without proper protection," the Lady replied tightly. Myrcella realized then that her gut-feeling was right.

_She doesn't like my presence here._ Myrcella tried to hide her feelings and recalled her mother's words.  _Never show weakness or will people will use it against you._

"We weren't without protection. Shaggy was with us. Even the guards wouldn't able to protect us as well as Rickon's fearsome wolf," she replied lightly and hoped it will lift the Lady's mood.

Sadly, no smile crossed over her lips.

"My son nearly died," the Lady repeated and flashed Myrcella a serious look."I know that you are still young, but there is no time for risk taking. I will leave tomorrow and then Robb will be in charge of Winterfell. He will be in need your full support."

Myrcella was taken back by her sharp words. She wanted nothing more than to help Robb, but it wasn't like she had much of an opportunity to do so. After her marriage she expected to be introduced to her future duties as Lady of Winterfell, but there was no time for it due Bran's fall and what followed afterwards _._ What surprised her more was the fact that Lady Stark was leaving Winterfell.

_Where could she go at a time like this?_

Myrcella had the urge to ask her directly, but she was also aware of Lady's sharp look.  _I need to act carefully._

"He has my full support," she assured the Lady."What makes you think otherwise?"

"I…," she began, but her voice faltered. Her summer blue eyes darted to her bandaged hands, before flickering back at Myrcella.

"Forgive me," she apologized and a pained expression washed over the Lady's face. "I was too harsh with my judgment. Rickon certainly needs your companionship, but my mind his heavy with worry."

Relief washed over Myrcella and she granted the Lady a soft smile.

"Do not fret, my Lady. I am not easily insulted and I understand your worry. I promise you that I will make sure that Bran is well-cared for in your absence," she replied and paused for a brief moment to gather her courage. Then she asked the question she really wanted to ask.

"I hope you do not mind my forward question, but where exactly are you going, my Lady?"

Immediately the Lady tensed. It felt as if the winter's chill crept through the walls.

"I am going to visit my sister in the Eyrie. She is grieving her husband's sudden death," Lady Stark answered stiffly."You do not need to know more."

The Lady's strange reaction confirmed her suspicions. Something strange is going on in Winterfell and Myrcella was shut out from it.

It was late when Robb came to bed. He looked tire and weary, like the Lord of Winterfell.

"You are still awake?" he asked full of surprise and started pulling off his boots."There was no need to wait for me."

Myrcella smiled back at him helped him pull his fur cloak."I was unable to sleep, so I stayed up. I hope it is no bother for you."

A brilliant smile swept over Robb's lips and he pulled her closer to kiss her cheeks and nuzzle her neck.

She ruffled through his red locks as he pulled back to settle down on the bed.

"Of course, it is no bother," he told her and continued undressing."I just want to make it comfortable for you. All this tragedy with Bran … I feel like I am neglecting you."

She was touched by his concern, but there was another reason she stayed awake. She wanted to find out what was going on with his mother.

_I deserve to know_ , she assured herself and gathered all her courage.

"You are not neglecting me, but your mother is behaving strangely."

Robb froze and his expression grew guarded.  _Like his mother._

"She is worried about Bran," he replied vaguely."Once he wakes up she will return to her old self."

"It is not only that. I asked her politely why she was leaving at such a time and her answer was very strange. She told me she is going to visit her sister in the Eyrie."

"Why is that strange?" Robb asked hesitatingly.

"It makes no sense. I understand that Lady Arryn lost her husband, but your Lady mother was so worried about Bran. It makes no sense that she is leaving at such time."

"It is my mother's decision. She knows what she is doing," Robb answered, but Myrcella didn't believe him.

"Robb," she addressed him in a sharper tone."What is going on?"

"Nothing," Robb insisted, but she kept pulling at his arm."I know that you are hiding something. Do you think me untrustworthy?

Robb swallowed hard and touched her cheek."Mother is going to King's Landing. She hopes my Lord Father might be able to help her find out who send the catspawn after my brother."

"But why not tell me?" she asked.

Robb sighed.

"My mother would be very upset if I told you…that is why. I do not wish to earn her anger. Please…I will tell you once she returns. I promise."

Myrcella didn't like it, but it was better than nothing.  _A marriage is built on compromises_ , she once read somewhere and she didn't wish to upset her mother –in-law.

"Do you swear it?" she asked more playfully.

Robb's demeanor relaxed and his lips crinkled."I swear it."

…


	19. Jon

Jon was woken by a sudden noise and instinctively grabbed for his blade, always resting next to his bed. Not that it took much for him to wake these days. Since leaving Winterfell he hasn't slept through a single night.

On the long sea travel he always fretted that people might steal his already few belongings. In Lhazar it was even worse, especially when they scouted far away from the city of Hesh. Every night they expected the coming of the Dothraki and so over time he cultivated a constant alertness against danger. Two moons ago he came to serve Triarch Maegyr and he realized soon that even guards and high walls were no protection against murder and death. He only knew about it, because Narsos spent hours telling him all his suspicions about the deaths.

All those unfocused thoughts whirled through his mind while his fingers smoothed over the scabbard of his blade. It gave him the comfort he needed to calm himself. Quietly he leaned against the door and listened to the silence reigning outside of his room. The corridor outside was reserved for the servants and it was quite unusual for them to pace through the halls at such an early hour. Even the guards had their own passage.

While the Triarch's villa was no castle, it often appeared to him like a maze. There were numerous arched halls, steep steps and angling corridors. Jon's rooms were more spacious than his old chambers in Winterfell, but certainly no maze. There was a small bed, a wooden table and picturesque paintings stretching over the walls. Bathed in the pale moonlight falling through the narrow windows the painted animals looked almost like demons staring back at him through the darkness.

Then he heard it again. It sounded like the movement of footsteps on the stone floor and the muffled voices of men.

_Maybe Narsos called for one of the servants_ , Jon guessed, but it would be a strange change of habit. The other boy was quite insistent on keeping his daily schedules. He also never rose before the first light touched the sky.

Maybe all this was only his imagination stemming from his lack of sleep. Yet there was no point in lying back down. He doubted he would be able to fall asleep again. Rubbing his eyes he stumbled through the half-lit room and pulled on his tunic and boots. Then he lit the oil lamp placed on the table and stepped outside where a pitch black corridor greeted him.

Listening in silence he waited, hoping to make out the source of the noise again. He didn't know how much time had passed, but there it was again. It was a muffled voice, barely a whisper, but this time he was sure it belonged to a human being.

Someone was out there, wandering the corridors in darkness. The reasons that came to his mind didn't promise anything good, but for a fleeting moment he felt torn.

He didn't belong to the guards patrolling the higher grounds and he doubted they would like his meddling. Drawing a long breath he slowly moved down the corridor. Along the way he saw pictures and marble statues staring back at him through the darkness. Narsos told him that these statues depicted important members of the Maegyr family. In Winterfell only the dead lords and the Kings of Winter received statues to embellish their stone graves. Here even the living needed marbled portraits.

_What a waste to allow such art to rot away in stone graves_ , Narsos had laughed when Jon explained about their traditions. Oddly, he found himself agreeing with the boy, but only because these statues were far livelier than those found in the crypts of Winterfell. Whoever made them was indeed a master of his art.  _They look almost alive_ , Jon thought.  _Maybe it was their whispering I heard_ , he wondered, though he knew how silly that sounded.

All of this was forgotten when he heard a rattling noise and a cry. His heartbeat quickened when he recognized that the noise came from the swirling red stone steps leading up to Narsos' sleeping compartments.

He stopped a brief moment considering his next step, but then the rattling noise grew louder. It sounded almost like the breaking of ceramic, but he was not sure. No longer hesitating he rushed up the steep steps and found the posted guards sprawled on the ground. One of them was Mero's man and the other a slave soldier serving the Triarch. The both of them were strongly-built men who shouldn't be easily vanquished. There was no blood to be seen and they were still breathing. Jon was able to deduce this by touching their necks, like Maester Luwin explained to him ages ago.

_Poison maybe_ , Jon guessed and pulled his blade free. Stepping into the anteroom he found broken vases and overturned pots of flowers. Narsos received them from his sister who held a certain affection for herbology. When another cry pierced through the air he didn't waste another moment and stumbled forward over the broken shards. After the anteroom there was another hall painted with bluish walls and a small brazier that was only lightened during the night.

The door leading to the boy's room stood half open and a bright sheen of light fell in stripes over the pale stone floor. Grabbing for the metallic handle Jon pulled the door open and kept his blade ready to strike at any possible enemy.

The spacious solar was just as much in disarray as the room before. There were toppled stools, scrolls spilled everywhere the eye could see and a broken oil lamp littering the floor.

Relief washed over him when he found Narsos alive, but he didn't have much time to savor it, as they were two other people present in the room. One lay sprawled on a sea of broken pieces of ceramic and his head coated in blood.

The other man was still very much alive and had his blade raised above his head to strike at a disheveled Narsos. Jon stormed towards the man, but the crumbling noise of the broken ceramic informed the man of Jon's presence.

Almost like lightening the man whirled around and slashed at Jon. The man's savage blow pushed Jon against one of the wooden shelves. Papers and books rained down on the two of them like fresh-fallen snow flakes and blurred his and the man's sight temporarily. Using the moment of distraction he ducked and moved of the way, allowing himself a glimpse back to Narsos. The boy sat grouched against the wall, his breathing labored and his face blank in shock. His hands and face were both bloody, but he was more or less unharmed. That was all the confirmation Jon needed and he immediately turned his attention back on the enemy.

The man wasn't idle and hurried after him, bringing his blade down on in a brisk movement. Swiftly Jon parried it, but the strength of the blow filled made his shoulder ache in pain.

He gritted his teeth and absorbed another slash coming from the left. Not wasting another moment he pushed himself away, before swinging his blade with fresh strength.

Up and down, left and right the steel met, filling the air with a clinking sound. It was like an awkward dance that continued for some time, but Jon knew he wasn't able to continue this forever.

Gathering his courage he rained quick strikes at the man's right side. While Jon was certainly weaker in stature, he was quicker and more agile. Making use of this advantage he moved out of the way while the man continued to hack at him with growing frustration.

He didn't know why, but somehow he managed to cut into the man's tight. It sent a fountain of blood sprinkling through the room and was enough to incapacitate the man momentarily. Quickly Jon brought the blade own in an elegant arch and met the man's neck. More blood was spilled, but the enemy was finally defeated. A gurgling noise was the last sign of life he heard from the man.

Slowly the sickening smell of iron filled his nose and he felt a slight stinging pain on his neck. He touched the source of his pain and realized that he was bleeding. It was no deep cut, but a cut nonetheless. It probably happened in the frenzy of the fight.

With the enemy vanquished he shifted his attention back to Narsos who was back on his feet.

"Daeron," the other boy called out fearfully."You are bleeding."

Jon granted him a slight smile and stumbled towards the boy. His feet felt oddly weak, almost like pudding.

"It isn't deep," Jon assured, but the world continued to grew distant and blurred. It felt like a sudden rush of fever overcame him.

Narsos's wide gaze of brown eyes didn't help to ease the growing feeling of sickness in his stomach.

"It doesn't matter how deep the cut it is," Narsos replied in a trembling voice and pressed the folded hem of his robe against his neck."The blade could have been poisoned."

The boy was right. He recalled the guards.

Colors started to dance before his eyes and he tried to steady himself on the Narsos's shoulders, but his feet failed him and he collapsed on the ground.

It is working fast, was the last thought before darkness took him.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Jon isn't dead.


	20. Myrcella

Together she and Bran sat at the window and watched Rickon running alongside Summer, Shaggy and Greywind. Every time his little brother giggled, Bran's face filled with a mix of sorrow and jealousy.

Barely a week ago Bran finally woke from his slumber. Everybody in Winterfell rejoiced about the news, but looking at Bran one could think he wished he never woke at all. He was still thin like spindles, but hardly ate anything. Not even Maester Luwin's daily prodding helped in this matter. The boy's mood wasn't much better. His eyes were often red-rimmed from crying, though he tried to hide it well.

Robb's busy schedule and Lady Stark's absence only added to the boy's sorrow.  _What he needs is his mother_ , Myrcella was convinced and hoped for Lady Stark's quick return.

It was not that she minded taking care of Bran and Rickon, but she often felt not adequate enough to deal with this situation. She was only a girl and not their mother. Espcially, Rickon missed Lady Stark terribly. Yesterday she and a maid tried to cut his constantly growing hair, but he refused them and declared that he won't cut it until his mother returns.

At least Bran faced all of this with a calmer attitude, though his constant state of sadness bothered her.

Even now she saw the tears glinting in his summer blue eyes. Recognizing her stare he rubbed his face as if it would make his tears disappear.

"You don't need to be ashamed you know," she told him quietly."Crying is natural. My brother Tommen cries all the time. He is your age."

"Crying is for babies," Bran replied and kept his gaze fixed on Rickon and the direwolves."I am not a baby. I am eight."

_He is trying to be brave_ , she thought and her heart ached with sadness for the boy.

"Well, then I am also a baby and I am much older than you, my young Lord," she replied jokingly."I cried when I said goodbye to my brother and mother."

Bran's eyes widened. It seems the boy didn't expect her retort.

"I didn't mean to insult you. I just can't behave like a little boy anymore," he explained strangely serious."It makes me just sad that things will never be the same."

Myrcella nodded her head in silence and touched his shoulder.

It was true. Nothing would ever be the same and Bran's loss of legs was one of those things that would never come back to Bran.

"You can still do things. My Uncle Tyrion can't fight like Uncle Jaime and isn't pretty like my Lady Mother, but he has a sharp mind. You just have to find something that you can do well without legs."

Bran sighed and leaned on his arms."I dreamed I could fly. The crow promised me, but it is all a lie," he replied bitterly.

Myrcella didn't know what Crow he was talking about, but children Bran's age often had a grand imagination.

"How can you know that it is a lie?" she asked and played along.

Bran gave her a queer look.

"If the crow kept what she promised me I would be able to walk, wouldn't I?"

"Well, did this crow tell you when it will happen?" she pointed out."Maybe it takes time."

Bran nodded his head.

"No, the crow didn't tell me."

"Well, then you have something to look forward too," Myrcella remarked and grinned back at the boy, hoping it would coax a smile from the boy.

"I will inform the crow about your arguments, Princess," the boy replied and for a brief moment she thought that there was a smile curling on his pale lips.

"Myrcella," she countered."Please call me by my given name."

Bran nodded his head in understanding and this time he gave her a full smile. It was like sunshine after a long stormy day. It also felt as if she achieved a great feat.

"Alright, Myrcella."

Still smiling she wanted to add something, but they were interrupted by the opening of the door.

It was Maester Luwin in company of the stable boy Hodor.

The Maester was a small grey man with equally grey eyes and thinning hair. For Myrcella he often appeared like a mouse, but she preferred him over Maester Pyrcelle.

"Forgive the intrusion, my Lady and my young Lord. We have visitors and your presence is required," he explained and his gaze flickered from Bran to M

"I don't want to see any visitors. They will just stare at me," Bran declared.

While the young lord seemed little enthusiastic to meet the visitors, Myrcella hoped that it was her Uncle Tyrion. He went to see the Wall just after her Lord father departed from Winterfell. Every day she prayed for his safe return.

Full of hope she addressed Maester Luwin.

"Who is it?"

"Your Uncle returned from the Wall. Lord Robb is hearing him now and asked for both your presence," the Maester explained, before turning to look at Hodor and Bran."Please don't make it difficult and allow Hodor to carry you down to the hall, my young Lord."

"Hodor!" the young man added happily and bobbed his big head. He barely fitted into the room and appeared to her often like a giant.

_A soft giant_ , Robb had called him and she agreed with him. He was always kind never angry. He had time mind of a child, though she wondered why he was only able to say "Hodor" when his real name was in fact Walder.

_Maybe he forgot it_ , Robb had answered her when she asked him about it. Back then she laughed, but now she felt ashamed of herself.  _He can't help being like this. Just like Bran and her Uncle Tyrion can't change their fate. It was not right to laugh about him._

"And what if I don't want to go?" Bran asked again.

"Then Hodor will still heed my command against your protest, my young Lord," Maester Luwin replied in strictly.

Dutifully the soft giant picked Bran from the ground and carried him down the steps.

They found Robb seated in his Lord Father's high seat, dressed in his leather and carrying his Lord's face as Bran called it.

Behind him hovered Theon Greyjoy and carried his usual smirk. Myrcella didn't know what to think about the boy. Sometimes he was quite amusing and made her laugh, but other times his stupid remarks made her want to slap him over the head.

However, Robb's stern face was not the only thing that bothered her. There were a dozen guardsmen lining the grey stone walls.

_Why all these guards?_

_My Uncle is hardly is a danger_.

Their presence gave her an uncomfortable feeling, that was only briefly forgotten when she spotted her Uncle flanked by four strangers, all dressed in black.  _Men of the Night's Watch_.

"Uncle!" she called out to him and the small man's attention was instantly drawn away from Robb."It is good to see that the snarks and grumpkins didn't take you away."

"It is good to see you smile, sweetest niece," her Uncle remarked as she made her way over to him to kiss his cheeks. Even Robb's grim face lightened a little when he saw her.

Realizing this she turned back to Robb and flashed him an intentional smile.

"I hope my Uncle will have our hospitality tonight," she remarked carefully.

Robb seemed displeased with her request, but he gave her an accepting nod.

"You are welcome in our halls, Lord Tyrion. As are your companions," he replied through gritted teeth.

His strange behavior irritated her, but now was not the time for questions.

Oddly, her Uncle seemed amused by their exchange.

"It seems my niece might even be able teach you a Lord's courtesy, Lord Stark," her Uncle Tyrion replied bitingly, before shifting his attention back to Bran.

_What did I miss_ , she wondered and observed Robb's anger with growing apprehension.

"So it is true what they told me. You are alive. You Starks are hard to kill."

"Indeed," Robb added and turned to Hodor.

"Hodor, please bring my brother here," Robb added more softly and rose to his feet.

Carefully the soft giant placed Bran into the high seat that seemed to swallow the small boy.

"You wanted to speak to my brother, Lord Tyrion. Well, here he is," Robb remarked and she sensed the warning tone ringing in his voice.

It filled her with a thought that made her shiver to the bones.

_Does he think my Uncle wants to harm Bran?_

Yet it would explain Robb's strange behavior.

"Tell me, how is it that you fell from the tower?" her Uncle's words called her back to the present.

"I didn't fall from the tower!" Bran replied angrily.

"Sadly he doesn't remember anything, my Lord Lannister," Maester Luwin offered helpful as ever.

"Very strange," her Uncle remarked and she sensed that he wanted to ask further questions, but Robb seemed to disagree and interrupted him.

"My little brother is not here to answer your questions," Robb remarked disapprovingly. _  
_

"Do not fret, Lord Stark. I am only here to give your brother a gift," her Uncle stated and smiled up at Bran."Tell me, do you like to ride, my boy?"

Bran's face filled with hope.

"Truly, you know a way…," he began, but was interrupted by Maester Luwin.

"Please do not fill the boy's head with this nonsense. He can't even walk, let alone sit on a horse."

"It is possible if you get the right saddle and horse," her Uncle explained to the Maester, who seemed instantly intrigued.

"What sort of saddle and horse would be needed?"

Her Uncle chuckled.

"A smart horse, good Maester. The boy cannot use his legs to command the animal. You have to shape the horse to the rider and teach it to respond to the boy's voice. I would start with a yearling," her Uncle continued to explain and handed the Maester a piece of paper.

The Maester unfurled the paper and eyed the painting with great interest."Nicely drawn, my Lord Lannister. It could work."

"Will I truly be able to ride?" Bran asked and looked still a little skeptical.

Her Uncle smiled up at Bran and put his hand on his heart.

"I swear it."

"Why would you do that?" Robb asked suspiciously.

Her Uncle gave her a strange look, before turning his attention back to Robb.

"See it as belated wedding gift, my Lord. Besides, I have a soft spot for cripples, bastards and broken things."

"Well spoken," Myrcella added and moved closer to Robb."Don't you think we should allow the guards to go back to their work and take care of our guests?"

Robb's face softened a little and he grasped for her hand to kiss it softly.

"I will call for the servants to prepare your chambers, my Lord. Maybe you wish to take a bath before supper," Robb told Tyrion before looking over to the men belonging to the Night's Watch."You are welcome to eat with us as well."

Thus she and Robb were left alone.

"What was that about?" she asked him straight to the point."What is the matter with my Uncle? Why do you dislike him?"

Robb's face grew guarded when he heard her words.

"Not here," he told her and led her up to their chambers. Bolting the door behind him he turned around and gave her a serious look.

"I don't dislike your Uncle, but I don't trust him. Since Bran's fall and the attempt on his life it is hard for me to trust anybody," he explained carefully.

"Anybody? He is my Uncle. He has no reason to harm Bran."

Something like guilt washed over Robb's face and he patted her shoulder.

"I never said that it was your Uncle. It is just…my mother thinks that your family…," he tried to explain, but his voice faltered before he was able to finish the sentence.

"What about my family?" she asked full of confusion.

"She thinks your family is involved in Lord Arryn's death…and Bran's fall," Robb explained and ruffled through his hair.

Myrcella felt like someone slapped her, but now everything made sense. The truth hurt, but at least there was a way for her to understand.

"Lord Arryn…died from a sickness," she told him still a little stunned by his words."Why does your mother think differently?"

Robb sighed deeply

"She received a strange letter from my Aunt Lysa Arryn. She made these accusations, not my mother. You have to understand…she is her sister and my mother values her family highly. And you also have to admit that the incident with Bran is a strange coincidence."

_It is strange indeed_ , Myrcella thought, but didn't say it out loud. She may be only a girl, but she was no fool. She knew her history and what her grandfather did to get this far. For her Tywin Lannister was only her distant grandfather, but to the realm he was a high and mighty Lord. A high and mighty lord who didn't hesitate to get his hands dirty if need be.

_Could he have killed Lord Arryn?_

Not that the thought was without merit. Maybe he disliked that her Lord Father relied so much on Lord Arryn and wanted to regain the position he once held under King Aerys.

But she didn't understand why he would harm Bran. That made no sense, unless it wasn't her grandfather, but someone else…

It was then that she recalled Joff's remark at Bran's sickbed.

_Poor boy… your Maester mentioned that your brother will never walk again even if he were to awake from his slumber. Truly, a sad fate for such a lively boy._

The thought scared her even more. She knew that her brother was a cruel person, but didn't think he would dare something like this.

_Or maybe I am wrong_ , she thought and looked back to Robb.  _Do I really know Joff?_

Robb's hand was now resting on her cheek while the other one was brushing through her hair.

"You look pale," Robb asked gently.

Myrcella smiled hesitatingly. Her anger was gone now, but she couldn't speak openly about her suspicions. If Robb reacted this way towards her harmless Uncle, what would he do if he thought Joff harmed Bran?

No, she had to tread carefully and wait until Lady Stark's return.

"All of this is a shock, but I can assure you that my Uncle would never harm your brother," she insisted."I don't know anything about Lord Arryn's death, but I am sure about my Uncle."

She saw the doubt on Robb's face, but she would be a hypocrite if she held him against him to worry about his brother.

"Alright," he said and leaned down to kiss her."Maybe we should go and attend to our guests.

Relief washed over and together they went to meet the guests.


	21. Jon

The first thing Jon became aware of was the sharp burning feeling under his skin. His head felt even worse, all throbbing and as if someone slapped it hard against a stone wall. For a brief moment he wasn't even sure where he was.

Was he back in Winterfell? Or did he die and end up in a different world? Maybe his travel to Essos never happened and it was nothing more than figment of his imagination.

With great effort he pulled himself up and took in his new surroundings.

_This isn't my room_ , he realized and felt like the world around him was swaying. Everything felt burred, distant and strangely lost to him.

Gritting his teeth he put his feet on the ground. They felt week and shivery like pudding. He was not sure if he would be able to stand, but tried it anyway.

Gathering all his strength he stood up and leaned against the wall, forcing himself to make a few hesitant steps forward. He felt like a little foal making his first steps.

Whatever poison tainted his body was very effective.

_At least it didn't kill me_ , he cursed inwardly and leaned his head against the cool stone wall. He was only half through the room and already out of breath.

Closing his eyes he brushed away the world around him and only the creaking of the door brought him back to the present.

Jon opened his again he found one of he servant girl staring back at him.

She had a round face and dark-almond shaped eyes were familiar, but he wasn't able to remember her name.

Not that it mattered, because the girl paced out of the room before he was even able to call after her.

Moments later the girl returned in company of a familiar face.

"Have you lost your wits?" Talisa Maegyr exclaimed and grabbed him by the arm."Running around like this is not advisable in your state. Now back to bed or my brother will complain."

Jon nodded helplessly as the two girl put him back to bed.

Almost ignoring his presence Talisa tasked the servant girl to fetch fresh water and her "work material" as she called it.

Jon wondered for a moment what she meant, but then the girl returned with a bag and a bundle of herbs.

"Good work, Liaa. You brought all the right ones." she complimented the young girl and settled down on a wooden stool. Then she carefully laid out her material. There was a mortar, pestle and all kinds of different herbs.

The young girl beamed and took a bundle of herbs from Talisa's hand, before starting to pick off the small petals.

The both of them appeared so focused on their task that he didn't dare to interrupt, but he needed to know what happened in his absence.

"Forgive me, but how long was I out?" Jon asked.

Talisa stopped her work and lifted her head to look back at him.

She was out of her usual fine garb and her dark hair was brushed up in a tight braid to keep it out of her face. Sitting next to the young girl one might have thought her another servant.

"Several weeks. I didn't think you would wake so soon. The poison was a nasty one," the girl explained and gathered the herbs in her lap, before placing them into the mortar. Then she started squashing the plants with strong thrusts.

"Several weeks," Jon muttered and tried to hide his dislike."It didn't feel like that."

Talisa nodded her head in understanding and gathered the squashed herbs in her hands. Then she put the herbs into a bowl of water offered by the young servant girl.

Satisfied she stood up and handed him the cool bowl of water.

His eyes fell back to the bowl of water and he lifted it to his nose. The smell was musky and not at all pleasant.

"Drink it all and no complaining about the bitter taste. It is the only thing that will help you against the side-effects," she explained and eyed him closely.

Forcing himself he drowned the tea.

His wincing face made the servant girl giggle, but Talisa started to litter him with questions.

Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel sick?

Jon tried to answer her questions as honest as possible, but was relieved when she finally allowed him to speak.

"Why are you asking me all of this?"

She wrinkled her brows and dropped her hands back into her lap. It seems this was not the first time that people asked her this question.

"It helps me to determine the severity of the poison's side-effects. I also need it to determine how many herbs I will need to prepare this tea of yours. You will need to drink that tea for at least another moon turn."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically."How do you know that?"

Oddly, his question seemed to amuse her.

"I know it, because I studied it. I admit it is a rather strange occupation for someone like me, but I don't think it is a bad thing to know what kind of poisons can kill you. It is a rather common death here beyond the Black Walls."

"I don't it is strange. I am also thankful for your help," he replied and felt like a fool. While he hardly interacted with the girl, Narsos often remarked that his his sister held a great interest in plants. Naturally, she would have knowledge about poisons.

His words of gratitude seemed to please her.

"You do not need to thank me," she added and helped the servant girl to gather her things."You saved my brother's life. It is only natural for me to return the favor."

"Where is your brother?" Jon asked in return.

"The whole incident displeased our father greatly and he had every servant investigated. He thinks the men who attacked my brother came as servants into our household. He even had Lyrios tortured, because he thought that he smuggled the attackers into the house. Sadly, the Lyrios had nothing to do with it. With all the commotion Narsos has to stay with father until the culprit is found, but I am sure he will come to see you in time."

"Your father's actions seem to displease you," he observed, after a moment of silence.

"My father is an important nobleman of this city, but has a rash temper. Lyrios is a good and loyal servant. He should have shown him trust," Talisa explained before departing in company of the young servant girl.

…

Days turned into nearly a week, but Jon had no time to wreck his time about Narsos. He was more occupied with forcing himself to drink Talisa's disgusting teas and regaining his strength.

Every day he walked around. At first it was quite tedious, but with time he was able to walk around without breaking into a sweat.

_Stubborn fool_ , was the only remark he received from Talisa.

Not that he disliked he girl. It was easy to see that she cared about her servants and liked the work she picked out for herself, but unlike her brother she was no great talker.

She usually worked in silence and didn't speak until Jon prodded her for information.

Not that there was much to tell. Mostly, it was empty gossip about the city, the servants or the investigations her father conducted all over the city.

It was not much, but it helped him bridge the time he needed for his slow recover.

A week after waking Narsos came to see him.

"I see my sister took good care of you," Narsos stated and moved closer. He looked different, more serious than the boy he knew before this incident.

_It is to be expected_. Jon doubted the boy ever came this close to death. It was an experience that changed people.

"She did," Jon confirmed and smiled wryly.

Narsos nodded his head and turned back to the door where a young servant boy lingered.

"I kept this for you," he added and boy brought him Jon's blade."I thought you wanted it back."

"I thank you," Jon replied and felt incredibly grateful."It is my most precious possession."

Narsos nodded his head, but didn't smile.

"Of course, it is precious. It is made of Valyrian steel. It makes me wonder how a sellsword like you gained such a precious blade."

Jon was stunned by the boy's remark and it took him a moment to give an answer.

"My Uncle is a high lord. He gave it to me," he explained, but Narsos' didn't appear convinced.

In silence Narsos unsheathed the blade and let his fingers dance over the smoky surface.

"Don't treat me like a fool. There are maybe a dozen of such swords to be found in the Sunset Kingdoms and only two known swords belong to Northern Lords. One is called Ice and belongs to the Lord Paramount of the North and the other one to a minor Lord by the name of Mormont. It was not easy to get this information, but the man I spoke with is a smith that hails from Westeros and trades with fine weapons such as these. He also remarked that this sword of yours is to light to be one of those two swords belonging to the Northern lords."

Jon swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say.

Narsos sighed and wrinkled his brows.

"I don't like secrets and when people hide things from me. After speaking to the smith I made further investigations. As your sword didn't fit any of the known swords I investigated about the lost ones. The only one sword that has a similar light grip as yours was…," the boy continued to needle him, but Jon flashed him a warning that left no room for questions.

Narsos' eyes widened in awe.

"So it is true…it is one of the lost ones, isn't it?"

Jon sighed and realized that there was no way to deny it.

"It is one of the lost ones…are you satisfied," confirmed.

"So my suspicions are correct," Narsos remarked and smiled.

"Your suspicions?" Jon asked and felt suddenly sick.

The answer came prompt and without mercy.

"Either you are incredibly lucky or you are of Valyrian blood. How else would you get a sword like this?"

"It is true. Nobody can know about it…nobody," Jon insisted and flashed the boy a warning look.

"So I am right again," He stated and seemed very pleased with himself.

"Don't fret about it. I won't tell anybody about it, but you know how much I like it to be right about something," he added gave Jon a curious glance.

"Just one more question if you allow me?"

Jon nodded his head hesitatingly.

"Who are your parents if you are hailing from the North? I never heard of people with Valyrian blood residing there."

Jon didn't want to tell him, but already admitted half the truth to him. And if the boy was able find out about the sword he doubted it would take him long to connect the rest of he dots.

"My Uncle is a high lord…he is the Lord Paramount of the North. My mother was his sister…Lyanna Stark," he explained in a whispery voice.

The other boy nodded his head left and right.

"Of course…of course," he muttered."The girl that was taken by the Dragon Prince. The betrothed of the Fat King. Even here in the Free Cities we know the songs."

"She wasn't taken…she went freely. I am their son, but nobody knows about me, because my Uncle hid me away. He named me his bastard to protect me from the King's eyes. That is why I am here in the Free Cities…," Jon tried to explain, but Narsos cut him off.

"…to find your relatives," Narsos ended for Jon."That is why you grew so angry with me when I mentioned the Beggar King and his sister."

"That is why," Jon confirmed.

Narsos' smile disappeared in an instantly.

"I don't think you should go to see him. I heard bad things about him. I doubt he would accept competition for his claim, even if your are a bastard. You are still of dragon blood."

"I am no bastard…or so my Uncle told me. My mother apparently wed my father, though I doubt anybody would believe me. Not that it matters…I don't care about that. I only want to meet them," Jon confessed and it felt like a heavy weight was finally dropped from his shoulders.

"I do believe you, but Viserys Targaryen is as mad as his father. He will not welcome you. He might even command one of the Dothraki to cut off your head," Narsos implored him.

Jon dropped his head in acknowledgement.

"I thank you for your advice, but more important is that you keep this a secret. "

Narsos nodded his head in understanding and put his hand on his heart.

"Of course, I swear. I owe you a blood debt."


	22. Robb

The wind howled around the high stone towers, the ravens cried and the air was icy. Robb could see that Myrcella was shivering under her thick bear cloak, but he doubted it was only the cold that was ailing her.

The truth source of her pain was something different and partly caused by his own actions. Weeks ago a raven arrived and informed them that his Lady mother captured Tyrion Lannister. As a consequence of her actions Jaime Lannister attacked his father and put several of his men to the sword.

In the end it came much worse. Shortly after the attack on his father, King Robert perished in a hunting accident and left his prideful son as his heir. Yet it didn't end there and now his Lord Father was a prisoner of the newly crowned King.

Calling the banners was the logical step, but he was also aware how much it pained Myrcella. After her Uncle's capture she was very upset, but back then they still had hope that this matter could be be settled peacefully. Now she was often silent as death as if somebody stole her ability to speak, especially when it came to him.

Robb spoke about the matter with Maester Luwin, but the old man only told him to give her time to process the whole situation.

_It is her family_ , Robb reminded himself and turned his attention back to the men approaching the castle.  _If it was my family I would feel the same way._

It were Lord Karstark's men who came with polished pikes and the sound of booming drums. As expected it was Lord Rickard Karstark who was leading them. Riding beside him were his three sons Harrion, Eddard and Torrhen who carried the black banners embellished with the white sunburst of their house.

Naturally, Bran wanted to ride with him, but given the scary incident in the Wolfswood where a group of Wildlings tried to kill his brother, he refused the wish.

Brushing those uncomfortable thoughts away he steeled himself for the meeting with the Lords. He wasn't his father and he knew most of them think of him as a green boy trying to play a Lord. The fact that his wife was half a Lannister, the daughter of the enemy who imprisoned their Lord didn't make it any easier for him. Not that he faulted Myrcella. People can't choose into which family they are born.

"We should go and see the Lords," he told her quietly.

Her face was pale as fresh-fallen snow and she gave an equally quite remark."We should."

The last time the  _Great Hall_  was filled like this was when they feasted King Robert and now they were preparing for war.

As the ruling Lord of Winterfell he sat in his Lord father's seat and flanked by Bran and Myrcella. He saw the queer looks both his wife and brother received, but he had no interest in to hide his family.

And it came as he expected. His Lord father's lord tested him each in their own way. First came Roose Bolton and Robett Glover, who both demanded the honor of battle command. Maege Mormont even called him a green boy straight to his face, but it was nothing compared to the Greatjon Umber, who threatened to take his forces home if Robb dared to place his forces behind the likes of the Hornwood's or Cerwyn's.

At first Robb was unsure how to react, but then he recalled how his Lord Father would have dealt with this. He knew that the Umbers were known for their strength and that they would only look down on him if he showed weakness.

Instead of haggling with the mighty Lord he promised him the noose for an oathbreaker, which caused the man to draw his blade. In that moment, Robb forgot about his courtesies and commanded Greywind to restrain the rude lord. Honed by training the dirwolf didn't hesitate to follow his command and sent the mighty Lord on his back.

Strangely, the big man only sucked at the stumps that were left of his fingers and started to laugh. After Maester Luwin took care of his hand he went back to feasting and drinking as if nothing ever happened between them. He even told the other lords to better bend their knees or get their fingers chewed off like him.

From thereon things moved more smoothly and most of the lords seemed convinced enough to follow a green boy. The only one who truly scared him was Roose Bolton. His quite, snake-like whispering voice and his pale eyes made Robb shiver every the lord spoke to him. The Greatjon may be loud, but this man never blinked or showed any kind of fear. At times Robb wondered if he was nothing more than a walking corpse.

_I need to save father_ , he reminded himself again.  _And Arya and Sansa._

Yet sometimes he doubted they were even alive. Nobody knew exactly what happened in King's Landing. All they had were tales told by the travelers coming to Winterfell. Some said his father slew the King himself, while others believed that the Hound already murdered his sisters. One drunken fool even said his mother had the Imp killed and hung his body from the walls of Riverrun. The man's words upset Myrcella so much that Robb had to remove the man from his home and Maester Luwin had to tend to her all night. Only when he assured her that his Lady mother would never harm an important witness like her dwarf Uncle did she finally sleep.

That was a week ago and it marked the beginning of her silent period. Robb understood her feelings, ore he tried to, but it couldn't go on like this.

As it was quite late he found her already dressed in a nightgown and her golden locks flowing freely over her shoulders. Before going to sleep she usually helped Old Nan to get Rickon to bed, who proved more troublesome than ever. When Robb announced that he will depart for the south his brother disappeared for nearly a whole day until they found him hiding in the crypts of Winterfell. When they finally found him Shaggy nearly bit off the arm of one of his guards and Robb was forced to chain the wild wolf of his youngest brother. Now even Rickon refused to speak with him.

_It seems becoming a Lord means to displease everybody I care about_ , Robb thought and felt slightly bitter.

Still he didn't come here to fight, but with the intention to make peace. He needed Myrcella's help and maybe in the end her presence will be a way to forge peace. Not that he liked making peace with the people who dared to imprison his father, but it was certainly better than war. Yet the letter he received written by Sansa's hand wasn't very encouraging. If Joffrey kills his father, he would have no other choice than to press for war.

"How did you get away from the lords?" she asked quietly and pulled the furs up to her shoulders.

"The Lords were quite drunk," Robb explained and started to pull off his boots."Besides, a raven came. It brings news from King's Landing. My sister Sansa implores me to go to the capital to bend the knee to your brother. She wrote to me that King Joffrey might even be prepared to show mercy to my Lord father for his attempted treason."

Myrcella's eyes widened in surprise and she straightened herself.

"Attempted treason?" she asked and grew a shade paler."What kind of treason could a man like your father commit?"

Robb sighed and settled down next to her, before handing her Sansa's letter.  _Or the Queen's letter as Maester Luwin called it._

"I don't know. Sansa only writes that he apparently tried to depose your brother. Why he would do such a thing or if it is even true…I don't know. Maybe it is all a lie."

Myrcella's green-blue eyes quickly wandered over the piece of paper, before folding it and handing it back to Robb.

"Maybe it has to do with Lord Arryn's death. You said your mother went to King's Landing to find out about the attack on Bran. Maybe your father made further investigations in the matter and was caught. Maybe these accusations are only a way to get rid off him as Hand of the King. Yet I don't understand why your father would try to depose my brother."

_Because he is a cruel boy_ , Robb thought.

"Maybe, but we won't know more until my mother's return. Hopefully she will come in company of your Uncle Tyrion. I can't promise anything, but I will treat him courteously."

"I don't doubt that," Myrcella added and grasped for his arm."But can't you wait a while longer? Only a week and she might return. Then we may yet resolve all this without further bloodshed, but if you march south it will be much harder. My grandfather is a proud man and he will never forget that you dared to rise up against him."

He pulled his arm away before rising back to his feet.

"Dared to rise up against him?" he asked angrily."Your grandfather is probably gathering his troops as we speak."

"After your mother imprisoned my Uncle!" she countered."My grandfather may not hold much love for my Uncle Tyrion, but he is still a Lannister."

"That doesn't justify the imprisonment of my father or the fact that your Uncle Jaime tried to kill him," Robb threw back and ruffled his hair in growing frustration.

It was hard to curb his anger. The last weeks were grating on his nerves and he wanted nothing more than to go back to the old times.

Seeing the tears shining in her eyes his anger instantly turned to guilt.

"I can't tell you anything about my Uncle Jaime's reasons, nor do I know on what grounds Joff imprisoned your father. I know that Joff is a cruel monster, but I am also sure that both my mother and grandfather will not allow him to kill your father. All I am trying to say is this: Don't act rashly and let us wait a while longer."

Robb sighed."My lords would think me a coward and weak boy. Can't you see that?"

She nodded her head and gave him a pained smile.

"I know," was all she replied, before lifting her head to meet his gaze.

"Well, if I can't convince you to wait, would you at least allow me to accompany you?"

The question caught him off guard and he would prefer if she stayed here with Rickon and Bran.

"I would prefer if you stayed here," Robb explained softly, but the displeased expression on her face told him that she was not ready to give in.

"I can't stay here. It would drive me insane. I know you don't want me there, because you think your lords will disapprove of my presence, but I am your wife and hiding me will not help. Besides, I might even be able to help you make peace with my family. Please, let me go with you Robb, I beg you."

Robb knew he should refuse her, but her arguments were sound. She understood her family better than Robb. He was certain that her presence will displease his mother, but it was something she will have to accept.

"Alright, you may come with us."

…


	23. Jon

_The Golden Bird_  was a palace. Everywhere he found marbled walls, polished floors and gilded glass windows. If Jon didn't know the truth he would have never thought of this place as a brothel. In hindsight it shouldn't be a surprise to him, because the only brothels he visited before were usually reserved for people of lower standing and not for high nobles residing behind the Black Walls.

Yet that didn't help to wash away the uncomfortable feeling that overcame him whenever he made a step into such a place.

Narsos seemed to share Jon's feelings on brothels. Once Jon accompanied Lord Stark to a wedding and the bride had shown the same star-struck look the boy was carrying on his face. The fact that the Triarch himself ordered his son to come here to "gain experience" made the whole situation only more uncomfortable.

 _Only a few more moons_ , Jon reminded himself again, though couldn't deny that he developed a certain companionship with Narsos over the last weeks. He even put more effort in his training and stopped complaining. Jon was not sure if it was his brush with death, but nothing else came to his mind.

"Finest place that I have ever seen, young Master," one of the guardsmen remarked while he admired the descriptive paintings on the walls. He was named Tilu and one of Mero's men. Normally he was assigned to guard Talisa, but the Triarch specifically chose him to accompany the rest of the household guard. Why he did that was still a mystery to Jon.

Narsos gave the man a tight smile."I assume this means you visited plenty of such places?"

Tilu barked with laughter.

"Oh, I saw plenty, but they certainly didn't have gilded windows where I worked, but that is not what counts. Just because this place looks fine on the outside doesn't mean it can't be ugly on the inside. That is why I am here...to tell you if they are trying to hornswoggle us. I know all of their tricks, young Master," the man explained and Jon finally understood why he was here, though the thought disturbed him.  _It seems the Triarch thinks about everything._

Arriving in the common they were greeted by the Mistress of this establishment. She was a plump lady with grey hair and keen brown eyes. She was also dressed in flowing yellow silk and numerous jewels bedecked her neck and fingers. She looked more like a noble lady than the owner of brothel.

_Well, it is a brothel for noblemen._

The woman eyed them suspiciously and especially Tilu's presence seemed to displease her. It was quite understandable given that the broad-shouldered man from Norvos looked very out of place. He looked like a farmer attending the feast of a King.

"What can I do for you?" the Lady asked behind a feigned smile.

"We need to find a girl for the young Master here," Tilu explained and obviously unaware of the way his rude speech seemed to displease the lady.

Yet the moment he held up the clinking bag filled with coin and pointed at the "young Master" the woman's whole demeanor changed immediately.

"Of course," she cooed happily and clapped her hands together."We have the biggest selection in all of Volantis. From the Summer Islands to Yi Ti…we have everything the heart of a young man could demand."

Narsos gave a tight nod and the woman called forward her so called "selection."

The Mistress words turned out to be true. All the girls and boys looked beautiful and delicate. Even their dressing spoke of the noblesse of this place. They were all dressed in flowing silks cinched at the waist and decorated in brightly colored gemstones. Their faces were all delicately painted and their hair decorated with exotic flowers that filled the air with the smell of spring.

Narsos looked incredible tense and was silent as death. For a moment Jon thought the boy might not be interested in girls, but when the Lady pointed at one of the boy's he furiously nodded his head and blushed.

At last he chose one of the older girls from Lhazar and went to do his duty as Narsos called it.

"That is good for us," Tilu remarked from his place next to Jon."It will please the Triarch that his son doesn't swing in the wrong direction."

Jon granted the man a hesitant smile and desperately tried to hide how out-of-place he felt here.

While waiting for Narsos to do his duty they were seated in an open solar decorated with brightly-colored carpets. There were also several girls pouring wine and playing on harps and pipes, filling the air with the soft sound of music.

After a while of waiting the Mistress took pity on them and send two of her girls to pour them wine and bring them sweet beets.

"It is good to see you again, sellsword," a familiar girl greeted him. It was Esmea the girl from Mistress Malladar's brothel.

The surprise was enough to make him spill the wine over one of he fine carpets.

The Mistress immediately stormed towards them like a wild bull.

"You will pay for it! All of it!" she exclaimed and flashed Jon a warning look.

"Calm your tits, woman!" Tilu retorted with a grin and showed the woman the bag of clinking gold-coins."Everything will be covered by our young Master. Now ask one of your girls to bring another goblet of wine for my young friend here."

Eased by the presence of the cold-coins the woman ordered one of her girls to do as Tilu asked of her Mistress.

Before leaving she turned to Esmea who stood there like frozen to the ground.

"Stay here and keep an eye on these two fools. Make note about everything they consume," she ordered the girl before departing with a whirlwind of yellow silk.

"Yes, Mistress," Esmea replied obediently, before turning her attention back to Jon and Tilu."If I were you I wouldn't make an enemy of our Mistress. She might send of her swords after you. Once a nobleman came here and didn't pay. They cut off his ears and threw him out on the streets as naked as his nameday," she explained and brushed up her dress, before settling down on one of the cushioned seats.

"Your Mistress looks quite scary. Mistress Malladar seemed more pleasant to me," Jon remarked awkwardly. Tilu only grinned and turned his attention to the other girl who returned with a full bowl of wine.

"My new Mistress cares about us. She also uses her hired swords to keep the customers from harming us girls. She was once one of us, you see. As a girl they sold her to one of the nobleman of the city, but when he died he set her free and even left her a considerable fortune with which she build this place. Now she is one of the richest ladies of Volantis. Even courtesans can rise high, only we don't use swords and spill the blood of our enemies to achieve our goals, sellsword."

Jon was startled by her words, but tried to hide it behind a smile.

In this moment of silence he noticed that she was wearing simpler clothes than the other girls offered to Narsos. Hers was a simple dress of pale silk and a silver chain formed into a tear. Jon knew that bed slaves often received a tear tattooed on their faces to mark their status. It seemed even in such noble places the slaves were not allowed to forget about their station.

"It seems the same goes for you. The last time you were still serving that slimy bastard Mero and now you are here in company of a noble boy," Esmea remarked quietly and gave him a curious glance.

"Mero is fighting in the Disputed Lands. I am only temporarily serving the Triarch's household to train the highborn noble boy you mentioned," he explained and tried not to blush in her presence.

"Truly, the boy is the old Tiger's son?" she asked.

Jon was slightly amused by her surprise. She was always so composed and now she looked like a star-struck maid.

"It seems you didn't expect that. So how did manage to get here?"

She pursed her lips and leaned closer. Suddenly, the air around him was smelled of rose water.

"Simple. The Mistress brought me. I am still in training, but in a few moons I might join the other girls. Who knows…maybe one day I will be like our Mistress and I will be able to open a place like this."

Her words made him sad and angry. Is that all a courtesan can dream about? To open a place where they train bed slaves as if they were goats?

He didn't know why, but in that moment the sweet smell of the rose water changed into something rotten.

"Have your own place? Is that really enough for you? Why not take the money you earn and buy yourself free. You could leave this place and go back home. Don't have a family you might want to see again?"

The girl's expression darkened instantly and she looked even slightly hurt.

"I haven't seen my mother since I was a little girl. They separate us young to make it easier. I doubt I would able to find her, even if I wished. Besides, it is what I have been trained for all my life. I know what free people like you think of us, but I do not need your pity. I am good at what I am doing and one day, if he gods are kind to me, I will have a beautiful place like this," she explained determinedly and rose back to her feet to gather the empty cups.

"It seems our young Master is back," Tilu remarked. Jon turned around and found Narsos winking at him awkwardly. He looked embarrassed, but also a little relieved.

"How did it go?" Tilu asked and pulled Narsos aside. The boy blushed and pulled himself free.

"I will certainly not relay any details…not let us leave this cursed place," was all he received in return.

Tilu only shrugged his shoulders and smiled back at Jon.

"First timers," he muttered and the both of them followed after the young Master.

…

The next day Jon vomited all morning. It seemed the wine he drank in this noble establishment didn't do him any good.

"I told you to avoid wine, but it doesn't surprise me that you ignored my warnings. You are after all a stubborn fool," Talisa chided him and started to brew one of her famous teas.

Jon winced at the smell.

"It is worse than usual," he remarked and drank. He learned that drinking it quickly made it easier.

Satisfied with his suffering, Talisa picked the bowl from his hand and settled down.

"I should go and give my brother a proper scolding for paying you wine," she added.

"It wasn't your brother who dragged me to this place. It was your father who ordered it. Besides, they don't have anything else to drink in a place like that," he explained and felt quite embarrassed to talk with a lady like her about such a sensitive topic.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Well, I have never been to such a place, but one word of my brother and you could have stayed here."

Jon nodded his head and felt slightly touched by her concern.

"I am feeling much better," he assured her."I wonder will you continue doing this once…once you get married?" he remarked carefully, because he knew she didn't appreciate such questions.

"My future husband is a rich man. I saw him before. He is at least twenty years my senior and quite homely. I doubt he will appreciate my interest, but I can be quite convincing."

Jon thought he said the wrong thing, because she gave him a queer look and started to gather her things. When she was finished she didn't immediately go, but sat back down and asked him another question.

"I know it is not my place to ask you this, but what will you do once you served your time here?" she asked in a strangely soft voice.

"I am going to leave Volantis after I get my coin from Mero," he explained vaguely. It was enough that Narsos knew the truth.

Her sudden smile startled him.

"Sounds exciting…being able to go wherever your heart pleases. When I was ten I tried to board a ship. I was quite a silly girl and my father had me locked up for nearly a year before he allowed me to go outside again."

Her words made him sad, because it made him recall that he did the same thing _. I ran way, not even telling my family where I am going._

She seemed to sense his sadness and gave him an apologetic smile.

"It seems my question upset you. Forgive my curiosity, but my brother likes you a lot. He is not the kind of person who makes friends easily. Your departure will hurt him, even if he would never admit it openly."

"I am sorry…I do consider your brother a friend, but I will have to leave once my contract runs out," he explained to her.

Talisa shrugged her shoulders and pulled her a shawl over her shoulders.

"My father would allow you to stay if my brother asked him. You saved my brother's life and my father is very pleased with my brother's progress. I am sure he would agree, but it is your decision. I don't have the right to dictate your life," she countered and left him.

…


End file.
